A Sorta Fairytale
by taralkariel
Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a world-class spy and Avenger, but she's starting to doubt her place in the world. Tensions are high when she is called in to rescue a new teammate who got himself captured, and more so when he's made her partner on her next mission. An old friend from the Red Room has resurfaced and she'll need help to deal with the aftermath – if she can accept it.
1. On My Way Up North, Up on the Ventura

**A/N: I wanted to see what BuckyNat would look like in the MCU if they don't go the route of a shared Red Room past, and this is what came out :) It's a bit long, but I'll update every day. Enjoy! Chapter titles from my all-time favorite song, A Sorta Fairytale by Tori Amos. Please read and review!**

 **On my way up north, up on the Ventura**

"Tell me if that's too tight," she purred, smirking to herself at the angry glare Dumont shot her. Ignoring his muffled protests, she pulled the ropes snug around him and his chair. He wouldn't be calling his superiors any time soon, and wouldn't bother her while she worked on his computer.

After surveying her handiwork, her attention turned away from the HYDRA lackey and to what he'd been working on instead. It was never a good idea to read intel while in the field, so she tore her attention away from the words on the screen and inserted a flash drive. After some maneuvering around the security put in place, she was able to download the relevant data.

"I'll let someone know you're tied up," she told Dumont, patting his head and easily dodging his attempt to head-butt her. "Careful, there. I'd hate for you to fall and be stuck on your face until one of your friends come to visit." The warning in her tone was clear and he contented himself with a nasty glare. Smiling wanly, she turned away and headed out of the facility.

There were guards to dodge and workers to avoid, but it was an office building, so she wasn't overly worried. Rather than her tac suit, her dress was business casual to blend in well enough with the innocent bystanders. Not that they were likely innocent, of course. The whole place was a front; chances were, everyone was in on it. Though perhaps unwillingly, she supposed as she smiled politely at a dark-haired woman in a suit who was frowning at her.

"Good morning," Natasha said.

Slowly, the woman forced a smile in response. "How are you?" she asked in that way people did when they didn't want an answer.

Despite the fact that her trademark red hair was covered by a blond wig, it looked like she might be recognized after all. That made sense – it was getting harder and harder to do a job without that risk. Being an Avenger was great, but going under cover was almost out of the question. She enjoyed it, though, and, when Fury asked for help, well… How could she say no?

She made it to the parking garage without incident, though a little more rushed than she would have preferred. A quick scan showed that her car had not been tampered with in her absence, and she felt a measure of relief when she pulled out onto the street and joined the rest of the city traffic. Still, it was wise to wait until reaching the relative safety of the highway before reporting in to say it had been a success.

"This is Hill," Maria answered as she always did, though she sounded more distracted than usual.

"Romanoff. Tell Fury I have the package."

"Anything to report?"

Natasha considered briefly, not expecting the question. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. Why?"

Maria took a deep breath. "Have you been briefed on Rogers?"

That was an odd question; of course she had been, but not for years. "What's going on?"

"Rogers and Barnes were following a lead in Germany. They split up."

Natasha snorted; soldiering was clearly a different game from espionage.

Maria's grim smile was obvious in her tone as she continued. "Rogers ended up in Argentina, and we lost contact with Barnes."

"And since I'm in France, you thought I could just head over to Germany and find him," Natasha finished.

"Rogers wanted me to ask; it's going to take him a day or two to get back, and he's – well, you know how he gets."

"I do. Which is why we hadn't cleared Barnes for solo missions," she muttered. "Send me what you can and I'll see what I can do. Tell Fury I'll get a digital copy to him as soon as I have access," she added.

"I will. Thank you, Nat."

Sighing, she changed course.

* * *

Maria's information on where Barnes had been and what he'd been doing was quite useful. All Natasha had to do was follow his steps – and not fall into the same trap. The second part was going to be harder than the first, and she couldn't expect that her higher level of experience would save her. The more direct mindset of a soldier was what Steve knew, and his best friend no doubt followed his suit in the field. But Barnes had been a world-class assassin for decades. It was certainly possible that he was better at this than she was, even accounting for the fact that it had been only around five years out of cryo for him.

Her search led her through the seedier parts of East Berlin, through Potsdam, and up to a facility on the coast near Kiel. Not many people fit Barnes' description, even if he managed to keep his metal arm from being noticed, so there were only a few false leads to slow her down. She'd managed to get to the suspicious-looking facility within thirty-six hours of being given this mission. There was no doubt in her mind that Barnes had entered the place, and there was no sign that he'd left it.

From what she could tell, it had been used during the Second World War and not since then. Which meant it had probably been taken over by an intelligence agency that didn't want to advertise its presence. That didn't necessarily mean HYDRA, of course, but the fact that Barnes had last been sighted in this area made it more likely. No one had seen him returning this way, and it wasn't as though he swam away from here. So finding a captive Winter Soldier was probably the next stage. She would just have to hope that the ruins of HYDRA wouldn't have had the time or resources to turn Barnes back into their weapon.

She waited for cover of darkness, wearing her black tac suit and as well-armed as she could manage: Widow's Bites, Stingers, two pistols, night vision goggles, a garrote. Hopefully enough to get in and bust Barnes out. To be safe, she'd called Maria and been informed that Steve was only six hours behind her. So, if she got herself caught, she would just have to hope the bad guys didn't do anything too terrible before Captain America rescued her.

Getting inside was easier than it should have been, and she moved cautiously through the cold darkness. It was cramped; older buildings tended to be, and certainly seemed abandoned. After searching around for half an hour (she hadn't been able to find any reliable schematics beforehand), she began to think maybe this was a dead end. It was only two stories, and the top floor had clearly not been used in decades. The ground floor was not as untouched, but there was no evidence that Barnes (or anyone else) had been here in the last few days.

Feeling discouraged, she considered HYDRA's penchant for secret doors and took to searching the ground floor more carefully. A little voice in the back of her head reminded her that Barnes should have left some evidence of his presence if this was where he had gone. But perhaps he'd found a different entrance, she reasoned. Or they could have disguised his trail after they caught him. In any case, she wasn't going to give up now and let Steve down. He was one of the few people whom she trusted, and, anyway, she hated to disappoint.

An office in the middle of the southwest corridor had a dusty rug on the floor. The dust had not been disturbed, but a corner of the rug was turned over. She felt along the wall by that corner, tapping and listening. A smile grew on her face – there was space behind it to echo the sound. After a few moments, she found the latch and pulled back the wall to find a staircase. She was in. In what, she didn't know, but she paused to send Maria a text about her discovery. No sense making Steve do the same legwork to follow her.

She charged her Widow's Bites as she made her way down the stairs, listening hard. The silence was palpable, and there was a light up ahead. It was dim, but it easy to make out in the darkness. She decided to keep her goggles on until she got closer, even if at the risk of being blinded if the light flashed suddenly. There were too many unknown variables here and she wasn't going to give up seeing what was close by until she had to.

The hallway was brick, definitely old, with the occasional sconce for a torch. A few had bits of rotting wood in them still, but many were empty. No doors came off of the corridor, which was both a relief and a cause for concern. It meant she didn't have to reconsider her trajectory, but it also meant she'd be easily shot if she had to run down this to escape – no place to hide.

After what she estimated to be twenty meters, the hallway she'd been following opened onto a large room. She calculated that it was likely no longer under the building above, and looked dubiously out across the empty space. There was no sign of what this room had been, for it contained only dust. A dozen hallways led off of it, though, and she frowned. One, across from hers, was the one with light. Figuring it had gotten her this far, she headed in that direction.

Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the emptiness despite her precautions and she was relieved to arrive at the new hallway on the other side. Even if it was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. The light was bright enough now that she could make out the floor, so she pushed her goggles onto her forehead. This corridor looked no different from the last, though it was shorter. It also had no doors coming off of it, a fact that was starting to get to her.

Voices ahead made her freeze in her tracks as she considered her options. The distinct sound of flesh striking flesh was followed by a short laugh, which painted the picture of Barnes being captive with only one guard. There would have been more laughs if there were more people, most likely, but she wasn't going to bank on that interpretation. It was also quite possible that the people ahead had nothing to do with Captain America's best friend.

She slinked forward silently, soon being aware of pacing footsteps echoing faintly off the walls. When the corridor was about to open into a room, she pressed her back against the wall and took a deep breath as she drew her weapon. Then she jumped out.

There was more than one guard. But she shot all three of them (not fatally) before they could do more than gape at her in surprise. The room was a sort of office with a row of holding cells behind it. She checked each man to determine if the threat was neutralized before heading for the cells. A familiar face stared levelly at her from behind a curtain of brown hair, one cheek redder where he'd been slapped, and she smiled.

"Hello, James."

"Natalia."


	2. I Pulled Back the Hood and I Was Talking

**A/N: Thanks for all the great feedback so far! Please read and review!**

Natasha found the keys to Barnes' cell and was unsurprised to see that he'd been shackled to the wall. A device with a blinking blue light was attached to his left forearm.

"Can you move it?" she asked, motioning to the appendage in question.

He flexed his fingers with a frown. "Barely," he responded, voice gravelly as he glared in the directions of the guards.

His anger was understandable – it looked like he'd been in this cell at least a few days. "Are there more?"

Turning his attention back to her, he blinked and she began to worry about how helpful he was going to be on the way out. Disorientation was normal after being captured and/or tortured, but she had been hoping he'd have most of his faculties at his disposal. "They take shifts. Don't seem to like it here, for some reason." He paused, considering. "I don't think the next shift is due back for a while."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Steve's on his way, but I assume you'd rather meet him somewhere more… hospitable?" she suggested.

A rare smile crossed his face. "I think we can manage to get out of here, if there's a different way from how I came in."

"How'd you come in?" she questioned conversationally as she unlocked the shackles.

"The easy way. There's a hidden dock I was exploring when I cleverly got myself captured," he replied lightly, causing a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth.

Stepping back to allow him to leave the cell, she nodded in commiseration. "It's always easiest to get to the heart of a place if you let the owners take you there. Can make leaving a little more of challenge, though," she added as she led him back the way she'd come. "I think we'd better leave that thing on there until we can take a better look at it. Don't want to short out your arm or something. Did you have anything they took from you?"

Barnes walked over to the guard station and pulled a backpack from behind it. After glancing briefly through it, he gave her a nod, and they headed down the corridor. Natasha listened and heard nothing but their muted footsteps. Considering how quickly he seemed to have bounced back, she couldn't help but wonder what they'd been doing to him. Perhaps nothing. But why keep him prisoner if not to extract information? If he was supposed to be bait, they had not advertised their location well enough to be found. Though maybe they'd intended to take him elsewhere before using him, either to trap or to bargain. Regardless, her questions could wait until they were safely away from this place.

The large hall came up more quickly than expected this time, but places always seemed smaller when they were more familiar. She pulled her goggles back on to traverse the big empty space, anxiety flaring in her chest at the volume of their footsteps echoing. Barnes stumbled into her when she paused, and murmured an apology. Resisting the urge to sigh, she held out her hand until he took it tentatively. The darkness was only going to get thicker, and she hadn't brought another pair of goggles with her. So leading him would have to work, even if it put her at an odd angle toward any attackers.

He'd used to his real hand to take her left, and it briefly occurred to her to wonder how well he could feel things with his prosthetic one. That he could feel something was obvious; he used it just as easily as its flesh counterpart, which wouldn't be possible if it had no sensation. Of course, he also used it in ways that would be extremely painful, so perhaps the pain receptors had been dampened. Then again, this all being done by HYDRA, it was certainly plausible that he'd been trained not to let any form of discomfort affect his missions. A familiar idea.

The second corridor felt safer, if only because they'd come further and their movements were almost completely silent. Barnes' hand tightened a little on hers, no doubt feeling the same locked-in feeling she'd felt the first time through. If she knew him better, she might have reassured him or made a joke, but she convinced herself that silence was safer anyway.

"Stairs," she hissed when they reached the bottom, and he squeezed her hand to let her know he'd heard. Climbing stairs you couldn't see was challenging, so she let him take his time, sliding his foot along until he reached the next riser. Watching him methodically make his way up, she considered where her car was, and if there would be light enough outside to make good time reaching it. Or if she should go get it and come back. An important rule in her line of work was to never let yourself get separated from the person you were escorting, but it wasn't as though Barnes was some frightened scientist. He could probably handle himself, even if his left arm was not fully functional.

They reached the top of the stairs at last and she figured they could get outside before they considered splitting up. She hated making decisions without knowing all the information available. There were windows now that they'd reached the ground floor, but the moon was new, so it was still pretty dark. Barnes let go of her hand, though, so it must have been enough to find a path. This made the rest of the trip go more quickly, as he fell in without difficulty whenever she increased the pace.

A sigh escaped her when they got outside at last, and she took a moment to breathe deeply – all that dust had made it difficult not to sneeze. Barnes was visibly relieved, offering her a smile when he noticed her looking at him.

"No sign of an alarm," she suggested.

"You did a good job," he answered matter-of-factly.

The compliment gave her pause, but she kept her attention on getting them out of there. "The car's about a mile that way," she pointed. "I can go get it and pick you up, or we can walk."

Tucking his hair behind his ear, he nodded. "Let's hoof it."

She started off and he matched her pace. The road was overgrown, but at least provided a relatively safe surface. Her goggles helped, certainly, but Barnes didn't stumble very often. His attention was fixed on the ground, so she focused on their surroundings, searching for any sign of life. Nothing suspicious had been brought to her attention by the time they reached the car. Settling into her seat, she glanced over to see how Barnes was doing, before starting the car and making a phone call.

"Rogers."

"We're just leaving the facility," Natasha told him as she pulled onto the street, heading back for Kiel.

"Is – how's Bucky?"

"I'm fine, Steve," Barnes' replied gently.

The anxiousness diminished significantly from his tone when Steve spoke again. "Good. Great. Where should I meet you?"

Barnes glanced over at Natasha, who answered for them. "Kiel airport. It's small, but safer than driving somewhere else," she added.

"Okay, it's going to take me a couple hours."

"That's fine."

"You're both okay?" Steve pressed.

Natasha hid a smile; took him long enough. "Yes, Steve. See you at the airport."

"Yes, ma'am."

The silence the followed was uncomfortable enough for Natasha to begin searching for a safe topic to discuss. She had hoped he'd just want to sleep, but he kept glancing to her then back out the windows or windshield.

"You alright?" she asked casually.

Barnes looked a little startled, but only for a moment. "Kiel is too close. If this thing has a tracker on it, we won't make it."

The thought had occurred to her, and she took the opportunity to scan the device they'd attached to dampen his strength with her phone as she drove. "It's not rigged to explode and isn't transmitting a signal for tracking," she said, relieved. "So, for now, it's an inconvenience. I'm sure we can get someone to look at it and take it off safely when we get home."

"Probably," he agreed slowly.

He was still watching her carefully, maybe even suspiciously now. "We can get a flight to Berlin as soon as we get there, let Steve know on the way," she relented.

"Good."

His expression was grim, but he seemed to have calmed down. In any case, she kept her attention on the road. Eventually, Barnes settled back and closed his eyes. The amount of relief this brought her was surprising, but she pushed the idea aside. Car rides with people she didn't know well were nothing new, and it was always nice when the burden of conversation was taken off of her. It wasn't like being under cover or on a mission – those were situations in which words came easily. But the quiet space after a mission was a time most people went back to their day-to-day, normal selves, which wasn't something she was sure of, let alone willing to share.

Finally, they reached the airport and, after contacting Steve, caught a flight to Berlin to meet up with him. Getting Barnes through security was much easier than she'd been imagining – his arm had some sort of tech on it to mask it from metal detectors and he fortunately had his passport among his things. Well, he had a passport; certainly not a real one. She had several of her own to choose from, and they got on the plane with little need for conversation.

They were seated together, her in the middle seat while he had the window. A middle-aged businessman sat in the aisle and was asleep almost as soon as they left the ground. Barnes, on the other hand, clenched the armrests tightly during takeoff, and only relaxed slightly once they'd levelled out.

"Is it heights or enclosed spaces?" Natasha asked him casually, keeping her voice low.

A surprised look crossed his face briefly before giving way to a rueful smile. "Both, probably."

"We'll be alright. And Steve will be there when we land," she said soothingly.

Unaccountably, the statement seemed to make Barnes more anxious. He must have noticed her frown in his peripheral because he explained after a pause. "I appreciate what you've done for me, Natalia. And what he's done for me. But it would," he paused, sighing. "It would be nice not to need a babysitter."

A memory was startled out of her from when she'd said essentially the same thing to Fury not long after defecting. Blinking to keep her focus on the present, she reached over to pat his hand. "Everyone needs help sometimes, James." He nodded but continued to stare straight ahead. Mentally shrugging off the conversation, she settled back against her seat to get some much-needed rest.


	3. I Knew Then It Would Be a Lifelong Thing

**A/N: Please read and review!**

Natasha awoke when the plane landed, the violence of it driving away sleep. Barnes glanced at her sharply, but seemed to have relaxed significantly since she had dozed off. Continuing to ignore them, the man next to her turned his phone back on and started to gather his things. She waited until the door had been opened and people were slowly filing off before standing to get her bag down, and Barnes did the same.

To her relief, Steve was waiting at the gate, the anxious look on his face dissolving into a smile when he spotted them. Natasha stood back while the two of them embraced and pretended not to hear Steve saying how worried he'd been. Whatever response Barnes gave was too soft for Natasha to make out, but it sounded soothing even at this distance. Steve then turned and wrapped her in a hug, which she returned after a pause.

"Thank you," he told her sincerely.

"No problem," she replied nonchalantly, tossing her hair.

Steve smiled. "Glad to hear it wasn't any trouble. Let's go home," he added in his Captain America voice before leading them through the terminal.

Waiting for Barnes to fall in with his friend, Natasha surveyed the crowd casually then brought up the rear pensively. A flight from Berlin to New York was a chore. She was not looking forward to sitting with the two of them for hours on end in an enclosed space, and was considering staying in Europe. Surely there was some job she could do for Maria or Fury that would require her to take a later flight. One where she could just sleep next to some strangers.

"This way," Steve's voice shook her out of her thoughts as he held open a door onto the tarmac.

"That door clearly says employee's only. So that would mean breaking the rules," she teased as she stepped past him.

Wrinkling his nose at her, he pointed to a SHIELD jet waiting for them. "Fastest way to our ride, Romanoff. You're welcome to go around," he told her.

Considerably relieved at the sight of their transportation, she grinned. "I can let it slide this time, Rogers. But I'll be watching you."

Barnes was a few yards ahead of them and looked back with a cocked eyebrow. "Steve never follows the rules," he offered, a smile twitching his lips.

"Well, that's just not true," Steve grumbled as he led them up the ramp onto the plane, as though they might wander off without him.

Surveying the luxurious interior of the private jet, Natasha smiled. "You boys have fun," she told them, and headed off to one of the private cabins. She rarely slept on missions, but made up for it as soon as they were over. So she was happily unconscious by the time the plane left the ground.

* * *

A few hours later, she felt rested enough to look for a snack. The plane was dark and quiet, unsurprisingly having minimal staff. It was a relief she hadn't had to fly it herself. After a brief search, she found some snacks and settled into one of the seats against the wall to eat and consider how to debrief the mission.

Natasha hadn't gone very far on this train of thought before Steve appeared at the end of the cabin closest to the tail. Offering him a smile and some pretzels, she waited for him to say whatever was clearly on his mind. Somewhat awkwardly, he walked over and sat down in the chair next to her, taking a handful of the proffered snack.

"Thank you, Natasha. I mean it," he added when she was about to wave him off. "You got there before they could do whatever they were planning, and I couldn't have done that. I owe you. We owe you."

Their conversations weren't always this earnest, despite how close they'd gotten over the years, and she contemplated how to reply. He was important to her, and being too casual when she responded would be seen as flippant, and might lose him. So she would be as honest as she could, even if it felt like someone else – she could be whomever he wanted her to be.

Covering his hand with her own, she looked at him intently. "Steve, really, it wasn't a problem. I was done with my mission, it was just a detour. We didn't run into any trouble, and getting out of there with him was fine," she assured him.

"You don't like him," Steve said flatly, and she blinked in surprise.

"I don't dislike him."

Shrugging, Steve leaned back and assessed her. "But you don't like having him around."

Her first defensive thought was to bring up how the Winter Soldier had shot her twice, almost killing her. It would be understandable for her to be wary around him now. But Steve knew that and would jump to the defense of Bucky not knowing what he was doing then. Besides, that wasn't what bothered her: in her line of work, allies were frequently former enemies and plenty of people had tried to kill her. So she went with the truth.

"We haven't cleared him for solo missions, Steve. Because it's too much of a risk, not because of what he's done," she began.

"He just wants to help," Steve cut in. "To make up for what he's done."

Natasha fell silent, the unspoken fact that this mirrored her own goals evident in his tone, and it made her feel like her confidence had been betrayed. That information was privileged; she hadn't consented to share it with Barnes. Steve's intentions were good but delicate operations were not his forte. Still, he could see that he'd overstepped himself, because he looked guilty and was about to apologize when the pilot's voice over the intercom informed them it was time to land. Taking the opportunity afforded by the interruption, Natasha headed back to her cabin.

* * *

"I don't see what the problem is," Clint was saying thoughtfully.

Sighing, Natasha turned over to stare at the ceiling, somewhat comforted by the muffled sounds of tools working at Clint fixed his tractor. Shifting the phone to the other ear, she stretched out on her bed. Well, the bed at the Avengers' facility. It didn't really feel like her own. Of course, what did?

"I don't know. I understand what Steve's doing, and I'm all for second chances. But I don't like having to clean up after them," she answered.

Clint was silent for a few minutes and she listened to the rhythmic clinking of metal. "Rogers trusts you. You don't see him asking anyone else to help Barnes," he explained.

"What about Wilson? Besides, whom else is there?" Her tone was a little bitter, and she could hear Clint stop what he was doing to sigh at her.

"Natasha, no one could have known what would happen to SHIELD. But with the Avengers, yeah, we weren't exactly a good team. Not unless there was some disaster. Stark's got his company, I have my farm, Thor's got his world…"

"Banner is who knows where," she finished for him.

"That's not your fault. We were nothing but supportive of that man. I guess some people's demons are just too much. But you're a survivor, Natasha. You don't let personal stuff distract you. You're better for the job than the rest of us, that's why you're still there," he explained gently.

She bit her lip, deciding to follow her thoughts regardless of how it might make her friend feel. "Not because I have nowhere else to go?"

"'Tasha… You know you could disappear and no one would ever find you. You could go anywhere you want and lead whatever kind of quiet life you'd like. And your friends and enemies would leave you alone. You could leave all this. The rest of us will forever be conflicted, looking back and wondering. But you'd be free if that's what you chose. Since you haven't, it must not be what you want."

Tears threatened to fill her eyes unbidden at his ability to read her. Who else could do that? No wonder she was resistant to any new teammates – she'd never replace him. "What do I want, then, Clint?"

She could hear Laura calling in the background. "You want to wipe out the red in your ledger, 'Tasha. Whatever it takes. I don't think you know what you'll do when you're done, though." The mouthpiece was muffled as Clint said something to his wife and she replied.

"Hi, Nat. You're a hero – and you're always welcome to come stay with us when you need a break from all that," Laura told her kindly.

"Thank you," Natasha replied, feeling unburdened – at least a little.

"I have to go now, 'Tasha. But we can talk again tomorrow," Clint offered.

Natasha sat up, wiping briefly at her eyes. "I'll be fine. Talk to you both soon," she said with convincing nonchalance.

The Bartons said their goodbyes and Natasha laid back down. If only Clint were still here, on the team. The new recruits were nice enough, but she couldn't confide in any of them. They looked up to her and she didn't want to give them a reason not to. Steve was alright, but he was usually with Barnes, from whom she preferred to keep her distance. Biting her lip, she considered why that was the case.

Wanda Maximoff was a former enemy – and far more powerful than Natasha was. Her grief at the loss of her brother was considerable, which led Natasha to try to befriend her, to cheer her up. It worked sometimes. It hadn't occurred to her to avoid the girl.

Vision was an android, otherworldly to the point that Natasha was relieved not to be around him. As she'd said to Clint, all those years ago, there were gods and monsters and magic and nothing she'd been trained for – a rare oversight of the Red Room. Still, he was aware of how his teammates felt about him and did his best to make everyone comfortable.

Of the Avengers, old and new, Rhodey was one of those she'd known the longest. She'd been undercover when they met, of course, but they'd bonded over dealing with Tony. It was a pleasure having him around, and she was pleased to see him and Wilson hitting it off. Both were happy to see her and make her feel included. Not that she generally confided in either of them, but she was comfortable with them.

So what was it about the brain-washed former Soviet assassin that kept her at bay? It wasn't because he'd shot her, or because of the ghost stories about him she'd heard for most of her life. At least, not anymore. Now he was Steve Rogers' quiet best friend, no longer the allegedly charming sergeant from the forties, but not HYDRA's killing machine either. Perhaps it was the dichotomy that bothered her. Who was he really, now that he had the choice?

She wasn't afraid of Barnes, or the Winter Soldier; either were something she could handle. Maybe what really got to her was that their circumstances were so similar – up to a point. Both had been broken down and turned into weapons. Both had made the world a worse place for years. Both had been freed – but the thing that saved her, SHIELD, had turned out to be at least as bad as what it had saved her from, while Captain America himself was looking out for Barnes. So, even though he'd been in the hands of HYDRA for seventy years, he was still considered more trustworthy than she was.


	4. I Didn't Know That We Could Break

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **But I didn't know that we could break a silver lining**

 _Her toes ached, but she stayed en pointe as she turned slowly, the girls around her doing the same. Even as skin tore and blood gushed from their wounded feet, still they danced._

 _No, that wasn't right. They weren't dancing – they were in combat training. They fought through cuts and bruises, leaving the floor red._

 _The fire caught on the sheets and began to spread across the ward. It was empty, but soon the licking flames would reach the innocent inhabitants. None were innocent, she reminded herself as she walked away._

 _Drakov's daughter stared up at her, a single tear falling from the girl's eye to mingle with the blood._

 _Clint Barton stopped her, arrow trained at her heart. This was the end, she knew, and felt only relief when the shaft pierced her chest._

 _But, no, that hadn't happened. The only time she'd been shot was by a ghost with a metal arm, who left her on that godforsaken road to bleed out._

 _"_ _Where can I go that I'm not a threat?" Bruce wanted to know._

 _"_ _You're not a threat to me," she promised. Was she lying? It didn't matter; he'd left anyway._

 _She stood on the precipice and watched the darkness getting closer, a tide of blood she'd never escape. No matter what she did, the people she'd wronged wouldn't forget. Nameless faces of her victims were closing in and they would never be replaced by those she'd saved._

Natasha woke herself up with a gasp, clutching her chest. It wasn't like that, she told herself. She was a hero, she was doing good things, saving people. She wasn't alone, there were friends and allies in this building right now. Asleep, but nearby if she needed them. This was a safe place, one of the few left to her.

Pulling her knees up against her chest, she leaned against the cold wall behind the bed and considered what Clint had said. Did she want to leave all of this? Would her demons give her peace if she was living a simple life? If she ran a shop, maybe, barely making ends meet, but never having to worry about how many lives were in the balance when she made a decision?

She'd given up all her covers. Being an Avenger had been an option and she'd taken it without considering whether that was because it was her only option. Was it? Was she only here because she was too much of a coward to seek happiness elsewhere? Because she was certainly here as penance. It was deserved – how could she live with herself if she wasn't trying to save people to make up for how many lives she'd destroyed?

Growing up in the Red Room was probably tragic, but she hadn't known anything different. The orphanage she had been taken from was a distant and hazy memory, and may not have even been real. She'd excelled in the program, better than even her eldest sisters, and that had been a pleasant experience. Killing people may have been part of her duties, but it wasn't as though she'd been allowed to question the morality of her actions.

The KGB had taken her in when the Red Room was willing to lend out her services. An operative for the Soviet Union, and, later, Russia, was not interested in the big picture. She was given a job, and rewarded if she did it well. More freedoms were given to her, and that was perhaps their mistake.

She'd always been curious, always going as far as her handlers would allow. And, the better her performance, the more she could do while her superiors turned a blind eye. She began to question her orders, first for efficiency and then more and more about why these people deserved to die or have their secrets stolen. What had they done? Who was it who decided their fates? What gave that person the right?

Her name became well-known in the intelligence community. People were terrified when they saw her for who she was. She'd used that, combining it easily with the fact that everyone was always willing to put too much trust in a pretty girl. It was enough for SHIELD to decide to deal with her.

Barton was one of their best, and he found her where all others had failed. She'd been surprised by him, by how unlike a world-class assassin he'd seemed. Perhaps surprised enough to let her guard down, just a little. And he'd seen something in her that no one else had before. He'd asked her to defect, to try being one of the good guys. Beats being dead, he'd reasoned. The thought of double crossing them had entered her mind, of returning to her Russian masters after she'd learned all she could.

But then she met Nick Fury, and he agreed with Clint – there was more to her than an assassin. Most of her early missions were heavily monitored, and she was rarely allowed out of her new handlers' sight. But Clint was one of them, so she hadn't minded so much. Because they'd given her something she had never had.

When she was cleared for it, she was allowed to leave the SHIELD facility and have her own apartment. She could eat what she wanted, go where she wanted, wear what she wanted, be whom she wanted whenever she wasn't on mission. That was the happiest time in her life, discovering that freedom. Working for the good guys and seeing how her work made things better.

She rose through the ranks as quickly as she had as a child, but now it was a delight to show her skills instead of grim perseverance. Not that persevering was no longer an important aspect of her job; it just wasn't her whole life anymore. The other agents in SHIELD were initially wary, but grew fond of her. She had formed desperate alliances in the Red Room and didn't know how to deal with people in less dire circumstances. But they accepted her nonetheless once she'd proven herself loyal.

Then Loki came down and ensnared her closest friend, leading her down the path to become an Avenger. She'd only been doing her job, and was relieved to get back to it when everything went more or less back to normal. Well, normal for her. The god left the planet with his brother, the genius scientists went to Stark Tower to tinker, and she and Clint went back to work. Sometimes, the super soldier joined them, but he was more like them than the others anyway.

It all came crashing down, and part of her was always expecting something like it to happen. She had never thought her happiness would endure, that she'd be allowed to do her job in peace until it was time to retire. But instead of the avenging ghost from her own past that she'd been waiting for, it was Steve's. And that was much worse.

HYDRA hadn't been destroyed – it had only slept in the shadows until it was strong enough to come forth. And she'd been serving it the whole time. Who knew how many of her missions were based on HYDRA's goals? Even if it had come from Fury himself, who's to say someone hadn't fed him information to accomplish their own ends? He and Maria had been right to trust no one with the fact that the infamous Winter Soldier had actually failed a mission. But that didn't make it hurt any less to find out that, as her world crumbled around her, even one of her most trusted friends hadn't felt the same way.

He'd apologized, in his way, but the damage was done. It merely reminded her of what Madame had told her, had made them repeat – she had no place in this world. She was a chameleon and could fit in anywhere, with anyone. But she'd never be part of anything. She was a tool, capable of things no one else could do, and she would have to content herself with that.

The Avengers closed ranks after what happened to SHIELD, trying to give the world something they could trust. She'd been grateful to be invited, to be part of something again, but she no longer believed it was real. Maybe that's why Bruce had left – he could see through her, see how betrayed and out of place she really felt. And didn't want her putting her hope in him.

He was probably right. After everything that had happened, she'd pushed too hard for some kind of connection. It would never have worked out between them anyway. And then after the turmoil with Barnes and Steve and Stark, and she was glad that she'd been around for it. That she hadn't run when she'd wanted to escape with him.

And now she was in this facility of broken people, all trying to do the right thing, to be ready to save the world. She was like them, but she wasn't going to fool herself into thinking she belonged here. A survivor, Clint had called her. She would survive here, like she always did, until she didn't feel like she owed anyone anymore.


	5. Things You Said That Day, Up On the 101

**A/N: Please read and review!**

 **Things you said that day, up on the 101**

Morning came at last, and Natasha dragged herself out of bed. There was always work to be done, and that would make a much better pastime than wallowing in self-pity. So she hopped in the shower and got dressed, feeling refreshed. There was a kitchenette in her quarters, but she rarely kept any food around, so she headed down to the main dining area. It was empty since it was so early.

Pouring herself a bowl of cereal, she picked a seat and looked through her phone for any new notifications. Fury was going to come by to debrief her in a couple hours, apparently. Unusual – he generally met her somewhere neutral when they needed to talk. And debriefs could be done over the phone instead of in person. Biting her lip, she hoped it wasn't anything too serious. The night she'd had did not make her feel very prepared.

"Good morning," Wanda said, her accent having decreased somewhat from living here but still evident in the two words.

Natasha looked up at the other woman with a polite smile. "Morning."

"You slept poorly?"

Shrugging, Natasha returned her attention to her phone. "It happens." She glanced up sharply when Wanda began rubbing her forehead. "You alright?"

Wanda offered her a weak smile. "You weren't the only one with nightmares last night. I can feel them," she explained.

The realization made Natasha uncomfortable, but she forced a smile. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of shutting us out soon. In the meantime, you're welcome to come by and wake me. I'm sure we'd both like to put an end to those things."

The troubled look on Wanda's face diminished only slightly, but she shook her head to dispel whatever thoughts were lingering. "I'm glad you have returned safely."

"I'm glad to be back," Natasha responded with a measure of sincerity. She didn't know if she could lie to Wanda as easily as she lied to everyone else. It wasn't something she felt she could just bring up, and Wanda hadn't mentioned anything.

"Will you be staying with us long?" Wanda asked as she looked dubiously at Natasha's cereal.

"No idea," she answered with another shrug as she applied herself to her breakfast.

"Hmm. Well, be safe out there, Natasha. I don't know what we would do without you on the team." Standing, Wanda put her hand on Natasha's shoulder briefly before exiting the kitchen, leaving her to wonder how much the other woman knew of her doubts.

* * *

Fury came by early and was waiting for her in her quarters when she finished breakfast. Used to his tactics, she barely reacted to his presence. "A success?" he asked, comfortably seated on one of her bar stools.

Fixing herself a glass of water, she turned around to lean against the counter and observe her former boss. "Yes," she answered levelly.

He waited patiently, and she gave him a brief description of her trip to Europe. When she finished, it was clear that he was contemplating something, so she focused on her glass to give him time.

"Barnes was in their custody for, what, two days? Three?"

"You'd have to ask him," she replied with a slight frown.

Fury waved off that idea. "But he seemed fine? Nothing hindering him from performing well on the mission?"

"We didn't run into any problems. I don't know if he would have remained stable had we encountered some obstacle. He seemed alright, other than not being able to use his arm."

"I see." He appeared deep in thought and she found it harder to keep her patience this time. "They got that device off. It should have rendered him immobile, not just his arm," he said with odd emphasis.

"So they haven't figured out the right dosage for him," she offered.

A grim smile crossed his face. "I'm sure, after seventy years, they'd be able to cope with him if he went rogue."

"What would you suggest, then?"

"He seems like a very disciplined young man, don't you think? He pulled Rogers out of the Potomac with a dislocated arm, and that man is no lightweight."

"Perhaps you should be discussing this with them," Natasha suggested coolly.

Nick's face fell slightly, but he recovered almost immediately. "I'd rather have an objective observer's opinion," he replied gently.

She could understand that. "He's strong, not as strong as Steve, but possibly more than the rest of the team. Particularly his left arm and his willingness to use it regardless of the pain it might cause him. He's methodical in his actions and willing to follow orders. Or suggestions. Revenge doesn't interest him particularly, though he was angry. I think efficiency is his greatest attribute, so deviating from a set task is unlikely."

The expression on Nick's face was some mixture of pleased and affectionate. "And how is he in his downtime?"

Natasha shrugged. "I don't see him much. So I'd say he's quiet and reserved, unless Steve's around to bring out the old Bucky." She paused, thinking of their conversation. "He doesn't like having to be watched all of the time."

"Hardly surprising. What is your assessment of his field readiness?"

Biting her lip to keep from answering too quickly, she cast around the room as though the answer to the question might be there. What she said might hurt Steve, but it was better to be honest. Fury would make the final decision, regardless of anyone's opinions. And giving him all the relevant information was integral in making his decision a good one.

"I don't think Steve can bear to see him in the field alone, but Barnes would likely complete a mission that required minimal time maintaining a cover without difficulty."

Nodding, Nick leaned back a little. "No covers?" he asked thoughtfully.

"I don't know how comfortable he is being both Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier, and I feel that adding more personalities to juggle might not be beneficial. Or something he could do for very long. He's had very limited contact with the regular populace in decades, so he'd need to be brought up to speed before expecting him to pass unnoticed among them."

"True. Wasn't that what you said about Rogers?"

Natasha smiled slightly. "Probably. But Steve is not good at undercover ops. His mindset is all wrong."

"Good thing you were there to bail him out when he was a fugitive, then," Fury stated casually, politely ignoring how pleased she was by the rare praise.

She cleared her throat before returning to her assessment. "Barnes has shown proficiency in, well, being a ghost for years, which had to require some ability to move around without attracting notice."

"You don't think he just killed anyone who saw him?"

She snorted. "That's more difficult than it sounds. He managed to disappear quite effectively when I shot at him with a grenade launcher."

The assertion startled a laugh out of him. "Good point. So, he's mission-ready but Rogers will insist he has an escort."

"Basically."

"Good. Take a look at this." Fury pulled a file out of his coat.

Natasha stepped away from the counter to flip through the papers briefly. "There's a new Red Room offshoot?" she questioned resignedly.

"Yes. I need you to check it out, probably shut it down."

Clenching her teeth, she nodded. "It's going to be tough. I'm sure they'll recognize me pretty easily."

The former Director of SHIELD could look as smug as cat sometimes. This was one of those times. "Oh, you won't be going alone, Natasha." She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Look again."

Her brow furrowed as she looked at the documents more closely. "Department X folks are involved," she stated, looking up at him questioningly.

"More recent members than those you knew in the Red Room. So you're going to need someone who can recognize those people."

His smile gave her a sinking feeling. "I can do this on my own," she told him defensively.

He patted her hand. "No, Natasha. You're going to need help from someone as familiar with those programs as you are. You said it yourself – Barnes is mission-ready as long as he has an escort."


	6. The Girl Had Come Undone

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

Natasha Romanoff was not a teacher. She'd never been an instructor and taking people under her wing was not her job. Becoming the best in the Red Room had required honing skills for competition, not cooperation, and SHIELD had never insisted on pairing her with anyone who wasn't at least comparable in terms of abilities. Usually, she'd worked with someone who had complementary talents, and each of them had done their own thing before regrouping.

The Winter Soldier was a Soviet specter, his image carefully crafted to intimidate both sides, and she'd been taught to fear him from an early age. To work with him would have been an honor in her prime. But now she wasn't one of the Widows anymore, and he wasn't a ghost. He was the tortured remains of Bucky Barnes, Western hero and martyr, and she had no idea which version of him would manifest itself once they were in the field. At first, he'd seemed to be the Soldier when she'd rescued him, but had quickly reverted back to Barnes – HYDRA wouldn't have allowed him to make jokes when describing a mission, after all.

So it was with some trepidation that Natasha waited for her partner in the briefing room. She was early, as usual, and neither Fury nor Barnes had arrived yet. An uncharacteristic nervousness was twisting her stomach and she was trying to determine the cause when the door opened. A look of surprise, and maybe relief, crossed her face before she could stop it when she saw that it was Steve.

He gave her a quick smile and shut the door behind him. "Hey."

"Are you trying to stow away on my mission, Rogers?" she teased.

The jest made him pause to look amused before seriousness took over his features. "I just wanted to talk to you … about Bucky, before you guys left," he explained haltingly.

She patted the chair next to her invitingly, and settled back to listen. It was unusual to see him be as awkward as he was when he sat down, especially in the briefing room. This place was generally somewhere he used his Captain America voice.

"He's been doing – well, about as well as you'd expect. He gets nightmares a lot, and sometimes he wakes up and doesn't know where he is." Who hasn't, Natasha thought, but didn't interrupt. "I've had to restrain him a couple times since he got back, since he didn't recognize … anyone." Unspoken was Steve's anguish that Barnes hadn't even known his best friend.

This time she did stop him. "We've all been through a lot, Steve. It's fairly common for people in our line of work to wake up confused, to try to walk through walls because they think it's just dense undergrowth, to forget we are safe at home, surrounded by our friends and loved ones. I know I have," she offered when Steve didn't look particularly comforted.

He nodded slowly. "I know he has to branch out from just working with me, and I'm glad it's going to be with you. You're good at helping us old soldiers figure things out," he told her with an almost-shy smile. "Bucky was pretty excited last night."

A stab of guilt went through her upon hearing both statements. She'd never felt all that helpful; more impatient than how she imagined a teacher should be. Most of her teachers as a child hadn't been gentle or patient, and look how she turned out. If Barnes was thrilled and Rogers was appreciating her instruction skills, it didn't seem like either of them knew her at all.

"I'll do my best," she told him belatedly, realizing he was looking at her with some concern.

"You always do," he responded, teasing, and she forced a smile to cover how much the sentiment meant to her. "Anyway, he should be fine while he's on the job. He's pretty focused, and good at really anything I've asked him to do on a mission. But downtime is going to be something of an issue, and I know there's a lot more of that on your kind of missions than on mine," Steve continued, back to business.

"Should I bring him a book?" she suggested innocently.

Steve laughed. "Maybe. What do you do with free time?"

Cocking her head to the side, she considered. "Read mission reports." Rather than take a dig at his unwillingness to take up a hobby, she chose honesty. Not that she was going to stop pressing him in that direction, of course. It just might be okay to let him know it was one of her struggles as well.

Unsurprisingly, he grew serious at her response and gave her a nod. "Well, I'd better head out. Bucky probably wouldn't be all that happy to know I came to talk to you."

"Perhaps," she offered noncommittally.

Steve got to his feet and paused, awkward again, waiting for something. If it was a hug, he was going to have to go on waiting, but she held out her hand to shake his firmly.

"Captain," she said formally.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, but he kept a straight face. "Stay safe, Romanoff," he ordered.

At that point, the door opened and Barnes stood framed in it, an uncomfortable look crossing his face before disappearing. She wouldn't say he was embarrassed, but something close to that.

"Hey, Buck. Just saying goodbye to Nat," Steve told him lightly, clearly also seeing the discomfort on his friend's face.

"You always do that?" Barnes asked as he slipped past them to sit across the table from Natasha.

"When he's not too busy jogging," Natasha put in smoothly. The ghost of a smile flitted across Barnes' face, and she wondered if he'd remembered that penchant of Steve's. Or if it was new.

Fury swept into the room before either of them could respond to her comment, and raised an eyebrow at Steve. "This your op, too, Rogers?"

"I'm sure the two of them can handle it. Good luck," Steve added before heading out and shutting the door behind him.

If Nick did was wondering why Steve was there, his expression didn't show it. "You read the files?" he asked.

"Yes," Natasha answered as Barnes nodded silently.

"Good. We have some new intel, should help you out." He pulled a stack of papers from his coat and dropped it between them.

Natasha eyed Barnes for a moment before reaching forward to leaf through them. "The Red Room's been shut down for years. I'm not surprised some of their scientists went to work for HYDRA."

"It's not the scientists I'm really worried about," Fury responded.

"No?" Barnes questioned, an unfamiliar edge to his voice that surprised Natasha. Fury seemed to take it in stride, however.

"Scientists always have the same goal – tinkering around with things they shouldn't. They want to change the world, but in a theoretical sense."

Barnes was staring very intently at the table in front of him, and Natasha thought the analysis a little untactful. "Seems pretty worrisome to me," Barnes offered.

Fury glanced at Natasha to see her reaction before turning back to Barnes. "The real problem comes from whoever is employing them."

"And who's employing these ex-Red Room scientists?" Natasha asked.

Leaning forward to flip through the stack, Fury stopped at the blurry picture of a man stepping out of his car. "This man has been moving through the ranks in HYDRA and recently began recruiting, sometimes forcefully, his old acquaintances."

"Who is he?" Barnes asked, frowning at the picture.

"Boris Turgenov," Natasha said flatly.

An almost-pleased look crossed Fury's face at her ability to recognize the man. "Former Red Room operative, he's been tracking down files from Department X's programs."

"So you brought in two graduates from those programs to deal with him?" Her voice was cold, and both of them turned to look at her.

"Is it a problem, Romanoff?" Nick asked formally. "Resources are scarce these days, and most of 'em don't speak Russian."

More aware of Barnes' eyes on her, she forced a businesslike smile. "I understand, sir. What's the op?"

Fury watched her for a moment, assessing, before continuing. "You two are going to infiltrate the five facilities we suspect they are operating out of. We have covers to get you there, but you'll be on your own then. Your goal is to find out what they're doing and if any of the coerced scientists are willing to come over to our side. Take or kill Turgenov and burn it to the ground," he said grimly.

"Yes, sir," Natasha responded and got to her feet. "We'll be in touch."

Barnes looked between her and Nick before standing as well. "Sir," he said with a nod before moving toward the door. After glancing at Fury to make sure the brief was over, Natasha picked up the papers on the table and left the room, Barnes on her heels.

Neither of them spoke as they picked up their bags in the hallway and headed down to the garage. There were plane tickets and passports in the folders they'd gotten the night before, which made sense. Avengers could take quinjets all over the world; regular agents had to be more discreet. Natasha tossed her bags in the back of her car then got in the driver's seat. After shutting the trunk, Barnes sat down next to her.

The airport wasn't far, but far enough to give Barnes time to think of a question she'd been hoping he wouldn't ask.

"Who was he?"

"Hmm?" she feigned ignorance.

"Turgenov."

He was clearly watching her, unmoving, and it occurred to her that people generally didn't have such a good read on her. At least not until they knew her better. Maybe she was just having an off day. "An operative in the Red Room," she answered.

She caught how his eyes narrowed at her evasiveness. "Who was he to you?"

"Does it matter?" she quipped.

"It might."

That was true; he deserved to know what he was walking into. So she relented. "I had a few missions with him, at the beginning. I thought he'd been killed in an explosion that was partially my fault."

"Apparently not."

She gave him a grim smile. "Guess I can stop kicking myself about that one, huh?"

When she glanced over at him, his expression was not responsive to her joking tone. "Maybe."


	7. I Tried to Downplay It With a Bet About

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **I tried to downplay it with a bet about us**

It was a long plane ride to Novosibirsk, Russia, and Natasha felt conflicted about the fact that Barnes said virtually nothing the whole way. He was deep in thought and she didn't know him well enough to be able to determine if leaving him to it was better than calling for his attention. Her indecisiveness kept her from breaking the silence until they'd reached the car that had been rented in her cover's name.

She hadn't slept much on the trip, but having something to do always made it easy to stay awake. It was late afternoon and they wouldn't get started until after dark, so they had some time to kill. If she had been on her own, she would have driven to the hotel and gone over relevant mission data until it was time to get changed. But some agents preferred to scope out locations before they became relevant.

"So, Barnes, what do you like to do before a mission?" she asked nonchalantly as she opened the door on the driver's side of the car.

He looked up at her a little sharply, clearly not expecting any conversation, then frowned while he considered. "I… usually didn't have a whole lot of options," he replied slowly.

"We could go check out the facility, we could get some dinner, we could head to the hotel to rest, or whatever." As she gave him some choices, she leaned comfortably forward on the roof of the car, keeping her tone casual.

Biting his lip, he stared at the ground in a way that made her think he wanted to pace but was too well-trained to do so. "Dinner might be nice," he offered tentatively, not making eye contact.

"True – I tend to forget to eat when I'm in the field, unless it's part of my cover. What kind of food do you want?" She smiled as she spoke, opening her door and adjusting her seat.

Barnes joined her in the vehicle, staring at his lap. "I don't know," he answered softly.

"HYDRA wasn't big on giving you a diverse meal plan, I take it?" Her tone was light and he almost smiled. "Yeah, I think I just ate gruel until one of my missions involved being undercover at a dinner party. Needless to say, that didn't quite go as they planned it. There was a place I always used to eat when I was in town – should we see if it's still around?"

"Sure."

Was it going to be this much effort to draw him out the whole time? She wouldn't have bothered, except… Except Steve wanted her to. He had a lot of faith in her, probably too much, but knowing he had high hopes for Barnes on this mission gave her a reason to try. And the fact that Barnes had apparently been looking forward to doing this with her… Well, to getting some experience away from Rogers, anyway. It would certainly be a step toward clearing him for more kinds of missions.

Her old favorite had been a small place and had closed in recent years. A new restaurant had taken its place, which she figured was good enough. She wasn't hungry, but was feeling too tired to continue driving around. Especially since Barnes didn't seem to care.

"How's your Russian?" she asked as they looked over the menus. He'd been frowning at it, prompting her question.

He licked his lips before responding. "Pretty mission-specific. I don't know what any of this is."

Seeing him mildly frustrated, she decided, was better than the usual silence or blankness. She smiled. "Anything I can get for you?"

With a dubious grimace, he closed the menu and laid it down at the end of the table. "I'm sure it doesn't matter."

Thinking back to when she'd left the Red Room, it occurred to her that being able to decide what to eat had been a particular pleasure. Barnes not sharing that feeling was a bit strange. Department X had used all its resources to break down its agents, to take away any sense of self. Getting that back was a necessary step to being okay. There were a lot more steps to being "better," whatever that meant, but deciding what food you liked, what clothes you wanted to wear, things like that seemed minor but were essential.

"Alright." Settling back against her chair, she observed him carefully. He was wearing a few layers, which was appropriate, given the weather. The gloves that provided a way to hide his prosthetic were a little more noticeable, but nothing too distracting. His hair was long still, but not as unkempt as it had been when he was the Soldier. He had been paler then, too; he looked healthier now. The stubble on his face didn't stand out quite so much, and the shadows under his eyes were diminished.

Perhaps the biggest change went beyond the physical – he no longer exhibited the same intensity, the same self-assurance and deadly nature. Whether he'd returned to being a regular soldier instead of an assassin was unclear. Barnes wasn't quite Steve's Bucky anymore, but was certainly a softer version of HYDRA's Winter Soldier. Though the layers made it less obvious, he had gained weight and didn't have the same hard edges HYDRA had forced on him, both literally and figuratively. She only hoped his instincts were still sharp enough to serve him on this mission.

"What?" he asked, raising his eyes from the table to meet hers.

"Just thinking," she answered quickly with a disarming smile.

"Assessing," he corrected resignedly. "I can do this. I'm not going to screw it up for you, Natalia."

She blinked to show surprise. "That's not it," she insisted gently.

His eyebrow lifted skeptically. "Then what?"

Whether he was more perceptive than most people, or just more accustomed to being lied to, it appeared that deceiving him would be a greater challenge than usual. The Red Room officials had rarely been truthful, and she didn't imagine his handlers had been any more so. "I was just noticing how you've changed since, you know, you came back."

The waiter came before Barnes could respond, and she adopted a friendly face to request one of her favorites. At least, when she came to Russia. No one in the States ever made it quite right. Barnes said he'd have the same, and the man hurried off to put in their orders. Staring intently at his hands, clasped on the table, Barnes cleared his throat to get her attention.

"And?"

Momentarily at a loss, she offered a smile as she ran back over what she'd said. Oh. He wanted her assessment. That didn't seem like a good idea, unless she could safely couch it in positive terms. "You look … better," she stated with a grin.

He looked up at her with a slight frown, then smiled tentatively. "You were staring at me for five solid minutes and that's all you came up with?"

Shrugging, Natasha leaned back languidly. "I like to be efficient, Barnes."

"Oh, I've heard your reputation," he replied, amused. He seemed more comfortable now, showing that emotion, than he had since they'd left the Avengers' facility. Good to see being with Steve wasn't the only thing that could bring it out.

"And what do they say about me?" she smirked, folding her arms over her chest.

"SHIELD's greatest asset, the Black Widow: beautiful, but deadly," Barnes stated loftily.

She'd heard it before, but most people emphasized the word "beautiful," instead of stressing "deadly." It was almost admiring the way he'd said it, which she would have to consider later. "Well, you know, you have to live up to your codename. Is it safe to assume that most of your missions were in the snow?"

The suggestion startled an actual laugh from him, and she saw a rare glimpse of Bucky Barnes himself. It was impossible not to join in, though Natasha quickly resumed a demure smile afterwards – keeping reactions at a distance was second nature to her.

"You know, it was usually cold," he agreed, with a real 1940s-cocky-soldier grin. It made him look, well, more handsome than she'd previously considered him. She could understand the stories Steve told a little better after seeing that smile.

"And it's not _always_ winter in Russia. We do get summer, except maybe in the northern parts of Siberia," she said in a mock-serious tone.

Barnes – she wouldn't call him "Bucky" even if it seemed almost appropriate right now – turned his head to look out the window skeptically. "Is it summer right now?"

She snorted delicately. "It's fall, dear."

"Hmm." His brow furrowed in thought as the waiter brought their food. Whatever he had been thinking he kept to himself. "Looks good," he offered.

"It is," she assured him before digging in to see if it was as good as remembered. Maybe not quite, but close.

They ate in hungry silence for a few minutes – clearly Barnes' suggestion had been a good one. It was also good to blow off some steam after the long flight here, and a break for food was a good alternative to getting some sleep. Natasha had never been able to fall asleep easily on a mission, and certainly not for a short nap before the action. It was something for which she'd always envied Clint, who could fall asleep nearly immediately and be alert within moments of waking.

"You know," Barnes began, then paused uncertainly.

Natasha gave him an encouraging look over her bowl.

"I was just going to say… they would usually send me out during snow storms. Must have been hell on them, getting me there, just for some damn theatrics. But I guess I should be grateful my uniform was so warm," he said quietly, slowing moving his fork around the bowl.

Thinking of most of her attire on missions, Natasha couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. To be warm was not a luxury that had often been afforded to her, even after she'd started working for SHIELD. "You don't need to be grateful to them for anything," she said flatly, a harsh edge coming to her tone unbidden.

Barnes looked up at her sharply, the corner of his lips twisting slightly upward before he focused on his food. "You're not grateful for anything from the Red Room?" he asked, seeming very interested in the answer despite not looking in her direction.

Taking a deep breath, she let go of the anger that boiled up sometimes. "The skills they taught me have saved my life plenty of times. But I wouldn't be in the situation where my life needed saving if it weren't for them. I was a poor orphan, yes, but I'm sure I would have managed as a civilian if I'd been given the opportunity."

"I'm sure you would have." His voice may have been soft, but there was no hesitation in the statement. She looked at him intently in attempt to read what he was thinking, but he kept his attention on the bowl in front of him.

Silence extended between them and she made no effort to break it while she finished her dinner. It was still delicious, and she was still warm and comfortable and not being shot at. For a little while, at least, so she intended to enjoy it. If Barnes shared that mindset, it wasn't evident. He finished before her and stared out the window until she was ready.

"Shall we?" she asked, sliding out of her chair. He gave her a curt nod, so she led the way back to the car, running over what needed to be done before the mission tonight.


	8. You Said That You'd Take It As Long As I

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **You said that you'd take it as long as I could**

The facility was about twenty miles out of town. Fury's contact had provided a van that was painted to look like the ones that took shipments to the place, complete with supplies, so she and Barnes would be able to get through the front gates without attracting unwanted attention. Workers' uniforms were also waiting in their hotel, so she changed into her tac suit and put the jumpsuit over it. Her Widow's Bites and Stingers were still accessible, though reaching her guns would be a little more of a challenge. Natasha put her hair up in a bun and surveyed herself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom.

Barnes was sitting on one of the beds, staring off into space but dressed. A brief inspection didn't reveal any of his own weaponry, and his left arm was unnoticeable under his work gloves. So long as they didn't get in a situation where it would be strange to keep them on, their covers wouldn't be blown from that quarter. How well-known the man with the metal arm might be these days wasn't entirely clear. Rumors had surfaced of his more recent actions, but she didn't think anyone really thought he was the same man who'd been HYDRA's best assassin for over fifty years. The higher-ups were certainly doing their best to keep him unknown.

"Ready?" she asked levelly. He blinked once, perhaps to bring his attention back to the present before nodding. "Let's go."

The drive out of town passed in tense silence. Natasha didn't attempt to make conversation to blow off steam. Gallows humor was her modus operandi, but she didn't know if Barnes would appreciate it at this point. So she let him ruminate and assessed him regularly to see if he was getting any worse. Having something to do would help, she reasoned, more than whatever she might say.

"Cargo?" the guard asked without preamble when she slowed to a stop at the gate. It was more of a partition and would certainly have been easy to drive through. But there might be a time for that later.

"Supplies," she responded curtly, motioning toward the back. The guard glanced back at his fellow, still in the guard shack, who nodded. The first man walked around to open the doors and inspect them. After hardly more than a cursory glance, he slammed it shut and headed back to his post to press the button that lifted the gate.

"You know where to go?" he questioned, a little more friendly now.

She smiled nervously in response. "I don't – it's my first night doing the driving," she answered conspiratorially.

As expected, the man warmed up at the prospect at helping her. She'd been somewhat concerned about the effect of having Barnes with her, and was relieved to see the tactic still worked. "Head north, to the right there, and then around the back. There will be other vehicles there, and some folks ready to unload." He paused, eyes flickering to Barnes, who remained impassive. "I'm off-duty in an hour; maybe I'll see you in the break room?"

Her smile turned shy and she giggled. "Maybe," she offered coquettishly.

The guard snorted, but smiled and patted the side of the van as she took her foot off the brake. Rolling up her window, she let the façade drop and looked intently forward to see where he had been directing them and whether anyone might notice if they deviated.

Barnes shifted beside her, and she was surprised to find him laughing silently when she glanced over. "What?"

He waved off her question and shook his head for a moment before he caught his breath. "That poor sap," he explained, still shaking his head.

"Hey, I might see him in the break room later," she put in defensively.

That made him laugh harder; a surprising reaction, but likely just the result of tension being relieved suddenly. "No, I get that. I knew you were good, I just didn't, I don't know, realize how that would look up close."

She smiled slightly as his laughter subsided. "You mean Steve doesn't slip seamlessly between personalities on missions?" she asked innocently, which made him laugh again.

"Shockingly, no. He's a pretty straight-forward guy, which is great." He cleared his throat, glancing over at her as she parked alongside the other vehicles like theirs. "Not that I… I mean," he mumbled haltingly.

Natasha patted his arm patronizingly. "I know what you meant, milii moi. Let's get to work."

Barnes nodded and both exited the van as unobtrusively as possible. The methodical focus she'd seen in him before returned, the expression on his face disappearing as if it had never existed. There were, as the guard had said, some people standing around ready to unload. A few were smoking and tossed their cigarettes to the ground to stamp them out before joining Natasha and Barnes at the back of the van. It didn't take long for the van to be emptied with little discussion, a good indication that it was no ordinary facility. There would have been a lot less efficiency.

"Where's the break room?" Natasha asked when they were done. One of the workers, a man in his early thirties, was pleased to show her the way, while the others went back to standing around. Flirting lightly with the guy, she was keenly aware of how surprisingly silent Barnes was as he moved behind her. It seemed to make the worker uncomfortable, because he didn't stick around after he'd shown them the starkly white room.

The corridors were concrete and wide enough to drive a smaller car down. Inside the breakroom, the walls, ceiling, and floor were all painted white in a way that reminded Natasha of hospital beds and sterile instruments. Barnes was similarly made uncomfortable, she could see when she glanced his direction. The room contained a handful of round tables with uncomfortable chairs strewn haphazardly about. Two run-down refrigerators were in one corner beside an old but clean sink. It was fortunate that there was no one else waiting so they could slip away unnoticed to explore the rest of the facility.

Natasha took point as they went in search of the laboratories. Schematics of the building had not been provided, sadly, so there would be more guesswork involved than she would have preferred. It was comforting to know she wasn't here alone, and judged that, historically, few places could hold the Black Widow or the Winter Soldier for long. She and Clint never had an extraction plan, and Barnes had the reputation of someone who would cause at least as much damage as Clint could when the need arose.

After about half an hour of wrong turns and ducking down corridors to avoid notice, they reached the area where a dozen or so scientists were hard at work, despite the late hour. The room was locked, a thick glass door accessible via a card swipe mechanism. Now was Barnes' job to see what he could do about identifying any of them; her experience was apparently too long ago to be of use. Though she was relatively sure she'd known one of them before: he was in his fifties now, with graying hair and reading glasses, but he'd worked for the Red Room.

She moved back to let Barnes get a good look at them. His brow furrowed as he did so, flinching slightly at some unpleasant memory. "I've seen five of them before," he whispered.

"Think they'd defect if given the chance?"

Shrugging, Barnes began unfastening his worker's uniform. "Let's go ask them."

A startled look must have crossed her face because he gave her a reassuring look. "I took this from one of the others. Should get us in the room," he explained as he pulled an ID card out of one of the pockets of his tac suit. She had expected him to be reaching for a gun, so felt a little relieved. It was too early to reveal themselves. "Got a plan?" he continued as he swiped the card.

The door gave a little puff of air as it unlocked. "Working on it," she replied, pulling the door open.

A few of the scientists looked up at them, but with little interest, so it must not have been irregular for workers to walk through. Barnes led the way through the lab, his brow furrowing as he looked carefully at each scientist. It wasn't subtle, and Natasha cast about for some excuse to explain it away, but no one seemed distressed by the scrutiny. Perhaps working for HYDRA meant regular inspections. Or maybe the result of HYDRA's incentives program was to make its workers apathetic to any strange circumstances.

There were half a dozen laboratories all clustered together, and Barnes and Natasha made their way through all of them. He indicated subtly anyone he'd known, with a nod if he thought they might be willing to defect. There were not many nods. She considered if making a rescue attempt would be feasible tonight; probably not. HYDRA likely kept some hostage to guarantee their productivity, and Natasha would have to ensure the safety of everyone before daring an escape. So, instead, she managed to snap a picture of each one to send to Fury for facial recognition and instructions for extraction.

Once they were finished in the labs, Natasha again took point in search of offices. Where there was paperwork, there was information that SHIELD could use. They would certainly have to search through back channels and dummy accounts before reaching anything actually relevant, but any lead was better than none.

Since it was getting close to midnight, finding an empty office was not a challenge once they'd located where they were in the facility. Most of the computers, however, had fingerprint access panels, and there was no one nearby who might provide one for them. Frustrated, Natasha clenched her fists and considered stealing the whole machine. Barnes gave her a sidelong glance, seeming more at ease than she was.

"No dice?" he asked in a whisper.

"I could get what we need if the damn thing was turned on. I can't access anything without a fingerprint," she replied, her annoyance apparent in her tone.

He looked around thoughtfully. "Let's find one where someone's home, then," he suggested.

Frowning, she tore her attention away from the computer to look at him appraisingly. "That will make it easier to get caught."

He gave her a half-shrug. "You worried about that?"

"Not particularly. Let's do it."

It took about ten minutes to find an occupied office, and ten more to wait outside patiently to see if the person would leave. He showed no signs of it, so Natasha went in anyway, ready with some story about the computer needing work.

"Hey, what are you – " the middle-aged man asked, interrupted by Barnes reaching over to pull him roughly away from his console. Pulling a cord out of one of his pockets, he began to bind the man to his chair, ignoring the thrashing he was doing in attempt to escape.

Natasha cocked her head at Barnes, who seemed to take this kind of thing in stride. Never one to lose an opportunity, she stepped around them, considering vaguely how efficient this op had been so far. Usually a little more breaking in was necessary when working with someone new. Accessing as much intel as she could on the computer didn't take too long, and Barnes came to stand next to her while she worked.

"Shall we go?" she asked lightly when she was done. Surveying his handiwork for effectiveness, Barnes nodded, and she smiled winningly at the bound man as they headed back to the hallway.


	9. I Could Not Erase It

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **I could not erase it**

The labyrinthine facility took a while to leave, and someone must have gone into the office they'd used, because alarms started going off after twenty minutes. Barnes swore under his breath, which made Natasha smile slightly. Garnering a reaction from him was a nice change from what she'd seen of him before. Their previously clandestine movements through the building were adapted wordlessly to favor speed over being undetected. The alarms caused all the regular workers and scientists to disappear, and men with guns to chase them instead.

Natasha wasn't overly concerned, but she pressed a distress signal on her phone that would alert Fury or Maria to her last known location. Their assailants were not ready to deal with intruders, so running had worked thus far to evade them. She had little attention to spare, but noticed that the softness she'd noted in Barnes earlier had disappeared – the look he wore she had seen before, and she was very grateful he was on her side this time.

Escaping the place did not go without a hitch, though they got pretty close to the door before running into a real obstacle. Rounding the corner ahead of Barnes, she saw the corridor was full of about a dozen men, waiting for them. Reacting without thinking, she grabbed Barnes and dragged them both back behind the wall. Bullets struck the concrete behind which they were taking cover, and he gave her a nod of thanks as she considered how to proceed. Without a word, Barnes pulled something from his belt and tossed it forward. A grenade, she supposed, though she had no idea he'd brought any.

"Any other exits?" he asked after the device went off and her hearing returned.

Debris had rained down, but it was now silent ahead. "I'm sure we could fine one," she offered.

Nodding, he turned and strode purposely around the corner. The grenade must not have been as effective as hoped because she could hear a shot ricochet off of his metal arm before she ducked after him. Some of the ceiling had fallen down, and the men were at least unconscious. The one who had fired on Barnes was dealt with before he could get off another shot when Barnes drew his pistol and took him out.

Glancing back to make sure she was following, Barnes took point and Natasha didn't stop him. She had no doubt that she could have made it out on her own, but it was certainly interesting to see how Barnes dealt with threats. Very effectively, she had to say. Well enough that she had nothing to do but walk a few paces behind him, checking regularly for anyone attempting to follow. Three such circumstances arose, but she took care of them quickly with her pistols. Finally, they reached the door through which they'd gotten into the building.

Barnes paused by the entrance, listening. "Ready?" he asked.

Once they left the relative safety of the corridor, there would not be any cover until they reached the vans. Anyone outside might be prepared to shoot at them, and she didn't have anything to deflect the bullets. Hence his question. But she'd been shot at plenty of times, and Barnes himself was the only one who'd ever managed to make contact. She smiled grimly at the thought and nodded to him, figuring now was not the best time to bring up that particular fact.

Using his shoulder to shove the door open, Barnes kept low and had his guns ready. Natasha did the same, both firing indiscriminately in the direction of any movement to keep anyone from getting a good shot in as they ran. It wasn't enough – Natasha felt a sharp pain just above her right knee and dropped to the ground with a hiss. Before she could make much assessment of what had happened, Barnes was putting his arm, the real one, under hers to give her the support she needed to keep running.

Each step was agony; the vans were not far and she managed to get into one after what seemed like an eternity but was only a few minutes. To her relief, Barnes got in the driver's seat. She was suppressing the pain as she'd been taught very effectively, but it was important to wrap a wound as soon as possible, before she lost too much blood. They continued to fire at their assailants – the glass was not bulletproof. But Barnes drove them out of the compound and, eventually, things quieted down. Natasha tore the leg of her suit to press against the bullet wound. It must not have hit anything but flesh, or it would hurt more. Still, it hurt abominably and was bleeding profusely, so the vein might have severed.

Neither of them spoke until they were close to their hotel. Barnes seemed more stressed than she'd seen him, which she thought disconnectedly didn't bode well for his future mission potential.

"You think they'll be able to find it?" he asked, motioning around them.

After a moment, she realized he meant the van. "Yeah. We should dump it somewhere. Walk back," she said, frowning at the pool of blood on the floor. Forensic evidence wasn't something she was accustomed to leaving behind.

"If I drop you off, will you be okay while I take care of it?" Barnes' worried voice interrupted her train of thought.

"Yeah," she answered automatically. It was obvious that Barnes didn't believe her, but she didn't give him a choice. He dropped her off behind the hotel, and she waited patiently until someone went out the back door before slipping inside. Tying the rags tightly around and above her injury, she limped slowly up to their room, cursing the fact that they weren't on the ground floor. Fortunately, she didn't see anyone else before she reached their door.

Letting herself in, she leaned against the inside of the door in relief. She ran a scan with her phone to make sure it was still as safe as it had been, then carefully removed most of her weapons. Her tac suit followed and she sat on the floor in the shorts and tank top she'd taken to wearing under it. The first aid kit she always carried was at her side and she was trying to thread the needle with shaking fingers when the door opened, startling her.

Barnes stood framed in the doorway, which, frankly, did not immediately calm her. Her head swam from blood loss and she thought confusedly that she should really have something to drink. The door closed and the locks were fastened before Barnes approached and handed her a water bottle. Smiling genuinely, she drank her fill and the world began to settle down.

"Any trouble?"

He looked her up and down and she was aware enough to see the mix of guilt and discomfort on his face. "Nothing with the van, no. They won't find it," he said decisively. Glancing down at her leg, his expression turned grave. "Need some help there?"

Some part of her wanted to protest, but she couldn't think of any real reason to refuse. Her hands weren't steady enough for it anyway, and likely wouldn't be until she'd replenished her electrolytes. "Alright," she offered noncommittally.

Barnes slowly moved closer to her, settling just close enough to inspect her outstretched leg. Removing the rag gently, he frowned at the sight. "Looks like it just missed being embedded in your kneecap. The bullet's out, but the skin's burned. It'll be hard to stitch up."

"I'd rather not just leave it," she suggested drily, an attempt at humor, and was rewarded by the slightest of smiles. She held out the needle and thread, which he took gently. His real fingers wrapped around the underside of her knee while he used his left to methodically sew her flesh back together. Watching him work was mesmerizing, making her feel grounded again. The stitches were perfectly equal in size and she wondered if his metal arm was always so precise. Was it the one he'd used to shoot her before? She didn't know, didn't think she should ask, at least not right now.

When he'd finished, he got up to rummage through his pack and returned with beef jerky, which he gave her before fixing a bandage over the wound. She ate placidly, drinking more water as she did so. "Thank you," she murmured.

Barnes was sitting a few feet away, watching her carefully, no doubt assessing her. It was not often that she was on the receiving end of such scrutiny. "I'm sorry," he said abruptly.

She looked up, frowning, and saw that he was staring but not at her face. After a moment of consideration, she supposed he was staring at the scar on her shoulder. It wasn't as obvious as the one on her hip, but certainly could draw attention. "It's alright."

His eyes lifted to meet hers intently. "Is it?" Skepticism was clear in his tone, and she smiled.

"Well, I'd rather you not do it again, obviously. But you don't need to apologize."

"Because it wasn't me," he said as though reciting the words to a play he despised.

"Is that what Steve says?" The nod he gave was short and unnecessary. "Well, it was you. I prefer to think of it as a reminder that I went up against the Winter Soldier himself and lived to tell about it. Twice," she added.

Something that could have been a smile passed over his face briefly before settling back into that same intense look. "Why … why would you … do this?" The hesitation in his tone was only indicative of his inability to phrase his question, not an indication of how much he wanted an answer.

"This?" she asked, momentarily at sea.

"Put up with … me. Why didn't you insist on someone else?"

His eyes met hers again and she considered her words carefully. "I try not to let personal feelings interfere with missions. You were the best for the job." His expression fell into something more guarded and she pressed on. "Steve is one of the few people I can truly trust. I owe him a lot. And he needs to know you'll be okay. Giving you something to do will help with that, and we need more active agents. So there are several reasons, take your pick, Barnes," she added with a gentle smile.

He mulled them over for a moment. "How many times have you been shot?"

Somewhat startled by the abrupt change, she leaned back against the wall slowly. "Including today? Three times. Though I don't know if today counts."

"Just by me?"

"Just by you."

He lifted a hand as though he was going to reach for something, but stopped himself. "So, Romanoff, what do we do now?"

Slowly, she pulled herself up using the wall to stand unsteadily. "Sleep." A smile quirked on his lips as she moved gingerly toward her bed. He came forward to offer a shoulder and helped her. "Get some rest while you can," she warned as she settled down. The pain in her knee had diminished, or at least she was better at ignoring it.

"Good night, Natalia," he murmured, stepping away.

"Good night, James," she answered, surprising herself by dropping off almost as soon as she'd stretched out.


	10. And I Ride Alongside, I Rode Alongside

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And I ride alongside, I rode alongside you then**

Natasha Romanoff was not like other girls. She hadn't been raised to enjoy feminine pursuits except as a way to trap targets who were frequently men. She hadn't spent any unstructured time with her peers until she was in her twenties. She knew dozens of ways to kill a person, and more to win in a fight. She knew how to read anyone for intent and how to manipulate their desires to achieve her own ends. She had a malleable moral compass though she liked to think she worked for the good guys. She couldn't have children but she could heal very, very fast.

The place was empty when she woke up. Her night had left her stiff and sore, and she dragged herself out of bed to stretch. That helped. The stitches on her knee needed to be cut out, the gash almost sealed. Inspection completed, she looked around to see if Barnes had left a note or given some indication of his absence. It was unlikely that he'd been captured, since why would they have just left her lying there, but he may have gotten himself into trouble after leaving the room.

Nothing. She let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair impatiently as she allowed herself to cycle through angry thoughts about how she hadn't asked for this. The moment passed and she picked up her phone to report in. Maybe Barnes had done the same.

"Fury."

"Romanoff."

"Ah, Natasha, was hoping I'd hear from you."

"Did you get the pictures I sent you?" she asked as she settled down on her bed, rubbing her temples with her free hand.

"Yes. We're working on them. Was Turgenov there?" Nick asked, sounding distracted.

Finding the drive from the night before, she inserted it into her phone to be uploaded. "Not that I know. Sending you all they had now. I'll start going through it as soon as I can. Probably not safe to stay here," she added.

"Probably not," he agreed. "You'll be heading west, then?"

"Assuming I can find my partner, yes." An unfamiliar harshness infected her tone and she considered that maybe she'd lost more sleep (or blood) than previously thought.

Nick paused, concerned, before responding. "What happened, Natasha?"

"Nothing, I just… I got shot. I'm fine. I haven't seen him since I woke up, though his bed's been slept in," she added, glancing over at it.

"Hmm. Rogers didn't say anything about him being a flight risk." He trailed off, clearly reconsidering his decision to send Barnes out without Steve.

The thought came unbidden that he may have had a similar conversation with Clint during her first few unguarded missions, and she reassessed her annoyance. After all she'd been through, how amazing had it been for people to trust her? To care about her and give her a job to do. She didn't know how long she'd been in SHIELD custody, being evaluated and questioned and deprogrammed. Once she finally got out, she finally had a shot at making up for what she'd done… Well, that's when she'd really started to get to know who she was.

"I'm sure he'll turn up. Just went out for breakfast or something," she put in soothingly.

Nick could, no doubt, see through her reassurance, but he didn't pursue the subject. "Well, report in when you get to the next hotel. I'll send your reservations to you later tonight."

"Thank you."

"Natasha? Try not to get too banged up out there," he added, a rare moment of affection.

She smiled. "I'll do my best, sir."

It crossed her mind to call Steve and see if he'd heard from Barnes, but it would certainly make him panic if he hadn't. There wasn't any evidence of foul play, and she didn't want to alarm anyone unnecessarily. Besides, all she really wanted to do was go back to sleep. Frowning down at the bed beneath her, she supposed what she wanted was something to eat and then a nap. But there wasn't time for such things. There were documents to read and packing to do before the mission could continue.

The distinct sound of a key unlocking the door drew Natasha from her thoughts and she had enough time to consider reaching for a weapon before the door was opened and Barnes appeared, pausing in its frame. He was carrying the kind of bag restaurants used for leftovers, which explained his absence though not his lack of communication. A look of surprise passed briefly over his features, perhaps at seeing her awake, before disappearing behind a guarded expression.

"Did you bring breakfast?" she asked casually, settling back against the wall behind her.

"Yes," he replied shortly, handing her the bag. She was aware of him watching her closely, possibly attempting to evaluate her recovery status.

Ignoring him, she smelled pancakes and quickly opened the package. A real smile grew on her face at the sight. Eating such a meal on a bed wasn't easy, but she made it work. Barnes moved around the room getting things ready, but she was distracted by her breakfast – dinner the night before had been far too long ago. Even with the jerky she'd eaten before getting stitches.

That reminded her, and she stopped eating to look down at them. Definitely overgrown, and would become painful if left much longer. Once she'd finished her breakfast, she pulled out a knife and began cutting them carefully.

"What are you doing?" Barnes asked, obviously uncomfortable.

"They served their purpose – thank you – but need to come out now," she explained. He walked over to look at her knee and whistled. "I heal fast," was her defensive response.

"I'll say," he answered. "Faster than Steve?"

She shrugged. "Not something we've tested, I'm afraid. Probably not, though."

"Hmm."

Her task completed, she looked up to find him regarding her thoughtfully. "You don't have anything like that?"

"I don't know."

The earnestness of his answer surprised her – she never admitted to something like that. Maybe that was because she was a spy and the currency of a spy was knowledge, but she was always either well-informed or at least pretended to be. And especially not to know something about oneself, or at least one's abilities, made it more alien. But then, she supposed, he'd been someone before being turned into a weapon. All she'd had was her skills and a few scraps of personality to work with when she'd first joined SHIELD.

"Natalia?"

"I just, uh, I was just thinking," she responded lamely, aware that she sounded very far away. And she was – remembering how important skills had been for most of her life, and how unimportant her own feelings or opinions had been. She shook her head to dispel such thoughts, hating to dwell on her past as she did. Barnes was watching her still, face impassive. He was very hard to read, she thought irrelevantly, and she wondered if he'd been taught that or just had it made clear to him that his personal thoughts were unnecessary and should be suppressed.

"I reported in. We should head west," Natasha said suddenly, forcing it out. Forcing herself to focus on the present instead of the parts of her history that she was usually so good at ignoring. Perhaps it was the mission, or Turgenov, that conjured these Red Room ghosts. She didn't want to think about all of this coming up just in empathy for Steve Rogers' brainwashed best friend.

"Alright. I'm ready."

He clearly was – he'd gotten his things packed while she ate, and was already dressed. She wondered if he'd slept at all, given how early it still was. "I'm going to need about twenty minutes."

Nodding, he settled onto his bed and leaned against the wall as she got up. Hastening to the bathroom, she showered and dressed, doing her makeup and hair lightly before she finished packing. It was exactly twenty minutes later that they headed downstairs to their car. She drove and he sat in silence as they made their way across the sprawling countryside to another facility allegedly used by Turgenov.

He'd been a friend, as much as anyone had been, during that time of her life. There had been a program similar to her own for male students, but it had never really taken off. Boris had been recruited, and moved into the same status as a regular agent when the Wolf Spiders was a bust. When she was first starting out, he'd taken her on a few missions and shown her the ropes. He'd always been impressed by her, and perhaps more than fond of her than was appropriate. But things went south on a mission and she had thought he'd died.

It had upset her, of course, but that was still when she considered dying for one's country to be the noblest of honors. Now, she would have grieved more to lose a partner as good as he had been. It had suited him to work with the inexperienced, to help her get her bearings in the field. Knowing he was still alive gave her mixed feelings. She wasn't so naïve as to think she might be able to bring him over to SHIELD, and knew that she would not hesitate if it came to finishing the job. But it rankled a little nonetheless.

"SHIELD wanted to run tests on my physical capabilities, but Steve refused," Barnes said suddenly.

Natasha was momentarily at a loss before she remembered what they'd been discussing earlier. "You didn't have a say?" she asked politely.

Out of the corner of her eye, he shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't much care either way."

She pursed her lips. "You didn't think knowing your limitations might be useful in the field?" That had always been important to her – so she knew how much to rely on her nonphysical skills.

Glancing over, she could see him considering a response. When he caught her eye, his expression turned sardonic. "The Winter Soldier accomplishes all missions successfully, Natalia, regardless of what they require. Or recalibration is needed. It was – it's survival. People don't understand," he added, shaking his head.

Her expression was grim when she nodded. "I do, James."


	11. And I Rode Alongside Until You Lost Me

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And I rode alongside until you lost me there on the open road**

The drive to Omsk passed by quickly enough, and they were ready to infiltrate the suspected facility that evening. It was an office building, with labs in the basement, apparently. To pass through the upper floors unnoticed, they wore business clothes over their tac suits. She was carrying a briefcase that contained their weapons and had a blocking device to keep said weapons from showing up on most scans. Natasha was used to wearing formal clothes on missions, but could tell that Barnes was uncomfortable with it. He kept readjusting his collar and sleeves with a frown.

Fortunately, once they got inside (using fake ID badges they'd been provided with), he adopted the persona of a convincingly tired businessman. No one paid any particular attention to them as they weaved nonchalantly through the fluorescent hallways in search of a way to the basement. Somewhat surprisingly, there was just a regular, unprotected staircase that led down to where a handful of scientists were hard at work.

There was, however, a bored-looking guard standing by the door. When he saw them, he stood up a little straighter and frowned. "Identification," he said shortly.

Natasha gave him a confident smile as she handed over her cover's information, having no idea if it would allow her through or not. Barnes did not mirror her expression when he handed his over, and she could read the tension in his shoulders. His face remained impassive, so perhaps the guard didn't notice.

"Neither of you are cleared to be down here," the guard told them, moving to stand in front of the door and putting a hand on his gun.

That was unfortunate. She glanced passed him to see if anyone inside was watching (no one was) before pulling out a taser disc and tossing it at him before he could draw his weapon. The voltage was high and he dropped to the ground convulsing but, happily, not making any loud sounds.

Natasha glanced over at Barnes, who raised an eyebrow. "That might not have been the plan," she conceded with a smirk. With a shrug, he grabbed the guard's collar and dragged him away from the door.

"It works," he replied as he pulled the ID off the guard and used it to gain access to the laboratory. She followed him in and pulled a clipboard out of her bag. The scientists looked surprised by their presence, but none of them spoke. Some looked to be very on edge and it was not a result of being disturbed. Or, at least, merely exacerbated by the presence of intruders, not initiated. They circled the place slowly, her pretending to write while he inspected the scientists. When they reached an unattended computer console, she deftly accessed all the information she could get her hands on and saved it to a flash drive. When it was finished, she gave Barnes a nod and they made their way out.

No one found the guard until they were almost at the front door, and they managed to look bewildered enough not to be stopped. Or maybe they just had rather poor security in this place, given the fledgling status of Turgenov's company. In any case, they made it back to the car without incident.

"I got pictures of all of them. Who should we send to Fury?" Natasha asked as she drove, handing over the phone she'd hidden behind the clipboard.

Barnes looked through them briefly. "I remember these three. They weren't working on me willingly, I don't think. Didn't enjoy it, anyway. No idea who the rest are, but they didn't seem like they thought they were working for the greater good."

"That's what I was picking up, too," she agreed. Taking her phone back, she dexterously managed to send the pictures to Nick while driving.

"Do you want me to do that?" Barnes asked, somewhat concerned.

She smiled. "Are my driving skills making you nervous?"

"No. Just… trying to be helpful."

In her periphery, she could see he was looking intently at his hands, a common sign of dejection or disappointment. "What is it?" she prodded gently.

He didn't answer right away, clearly considering what to say. "Just seems like you've got this handled. Could have sent me the pictures to look at, or I'm sure Fury has people to investigate."

The thought had occurred to her, but didn't seem polite to point out. She considered how honestly to respond to his concern. "I've been on plenty of missions where my particular skill-set was not needed. Fury asked us to go because we are the most qualified for this op. Maybe our qualifications won't be necessary, but it's better to overestimate what's going to happen on a mission than to risk getting in over your head." Glancing over, she saw that he nodded but wasn't entirely convinced. "Besides, solo missions are often an unnecessary risk. Fury wouldn't have sent me alone if he could help it, even though I'm one of his best agents in the field."

That reason seemed to have more effect than the others. "You aren't usually on your own?" he asked, somewhat surprised.

"Were you?" she countered.

"Well, I mean, I usually had a team of handlers. But that was as much to make sure I didn't get... misplaced as it was to provide me with backup. I wasn't working with them." He paused, thoughtful again. "Who do you usually work with?"

The question was unexpected. What did he know about SHIELD or the Avengers or what he'd gotten himself involved with? "Clint Barton. Hawkeye. We were Strike Team Delta for a long time," she answered shortly.

Barnes considered. "He retired?"

"He'll come back if we need him. But, yeah, essentially. He has a family."

He had been frowning until she added the last part, when he nodded as though that made perfect sense. She wondered if it was because that's how things were, back the last time he was in the world. It was a relatively alien concept to her. She could, of course, understand why Clint would want to stay home. What she didn't understand is why he was willing to leave to work for SHIELD in the first place – why not do something a little less dangerous? Most people who became agents had a limited number of concerned people waiting at home, if any.

"It's good not to leave people behind," Barnes said quietly.

"Who did you leave?" she asked before she could stop herself, grateful that her tone at least had been gentle.

Licking his lips, he looked out the window. "My parents and sisters. Steve, at first. He didn't… he didn't take it well."

"No?"

From the way he looked up sharply, he was as surprised by her gap in knowledge as she had been by his earlier. "He let that scientist experiment on him just for a chance to follow me to war. Not," he clarified, "that it was just because I went, of course. Just kinda brought things to a head for him."

She tried to picture the photographs she'd seen of pre-serum Steve desperate to go to war, but failed. The motivation she could understand, but not what it would be like to know Steve as a small and sickly man. Now, he was always striving to live up to the ideal of being Captain America, and she was somewhat taken aback to realize he'd been as driven before having something specific toward which to strive.

"Has he changed a lot?" Natasha asked quietly.

Barnes ran his real fingers through his hair before answering. "You mean since I died?" he clarified, and she nodded as her stomach twinged slightly in something like embarrassment. Who was she to ask about such a thing? "No, not really. Maybe a little more focused, more intense. But that's probably my fault anyway."

"Your fault?"

A grim smile twisted his features. "He worries. About me. Takes risks he shouldn't because of who I was, before. It would have been better if Pierce hadn't sent me after you."

"You'd still work for HYDRA," she stressed, startled.

He snorted. "So I'd be in cryo somewhere. Or dead. But after everything that's happened in the last couple years, you can't honestly tell me it wouldn't have been better for everyone if that were the case, Natalia."

Angry, she pulled the car over so she could look him in the eye. "You're just one person, James, you can't help how the world moves around you. Maybe things would have been better if none of this ever happened, but it did. And that's all over now. So now you just have to move forward." Belatedly, it occurred to her that Steve would not be happy about what she'd just said. That he would think it was overly harsh. But Barnes wasn't a child who needed to be handled with kid gloves.

To her surprise, Barnes smiled genuinely when she finished talking. "And here Steve was worried we wouldn't get along."

Was that why he'd come to talk to her before they were briefed? She'd put it to general worry on Steve's part about his friend going on a mission without him. It hadn't occurred to her that he might be worried about her specifically. A smile tugged at her lips at the idea – maybe he knew her better than she'd thought. "Well, you know, that's what he does. It's in his personnel file and everything," she joked.

Barnes laughed at that, his dark mood seeming to have passed. "You guys sure are thorough. I'm afraid what mine might say."

Pulling back into traffic, Natasha smirked. "No idea – I've written a few, but Fury keeps those pretty close to the vest. He's never told me what's in mine, either."

"Well, I suppose that's alright, then." She looked over with a raised eyebrow, so he explained. "Seems like I'm in good company, not knowing."

She didn't think she'd been referred to as good company before. "Get some sleep, James. It's still a few hours to Yekaterinburg."

* * *

The warehouse they were to infiltrate was supposedly abandoned, but was running a suspiciously high power bill. The bill was being paid through a stream of dummy corporations that eventually led back to Turgenov. So it seemed like their base of operations, more than the other locations they had already visited. The plan here, then, was going to involve more intelligence gathering and subsequent destruction than the others.

After a brief discussion, they determined that Natasha would go in first and get whatever intel she could, and Barnes would keep lookout. Then he'd set charges and she'd drive them out of there. It was a plan that fit with their respective skills, and Barnes seemed pretty pleased about it as they set to work.

He had a sniper rifle along with him, swung that over his shoulder as they got out of the car. Both were wearing their tac suits, having removed the business casual when they arrived at their hotel a little before dawn. Barnes surveyed the place dubiously as Natasha charged her Widow's Bites and took the safety off on her pistols.

"Good luck in there," he said a little awkwardly.

Satisfied with the state of her weapons, she went to stand next to him. "Good luck out here," she echoed with a smile before heading inside.


	12. And I Rode Alongside Until the Honey

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! We're a bit more than halfway through :)**

 **And I rode alongside until the honey spread itself so thin**

Her footsteps were silent as she moved carefully along the rafters of the warehouse. Some meters below her were stacks of shipping crates, all unlabeled. Two sentries were walking among them, seeming bored. At the other end of the building from the window she'd used to climb inside appeared to be an overly secure door. There was another guard standing right outside it, holding a rifle across his chest. Clearly that was where she wanted to go.

Timing her drop carefully, she landed on top of one of the sentries and knocked him to the ground hard. He wouldn't be getting up soon. Quickly, she slid behind one of the crates and waited for his fellow to investigate the noise. It didn't take long, and she jumped on his back to use her garrote when he did so. The place was dark and she was being quiet enough that the guard at the door called out tentatively rather than sound the alarm.

She took off at a run and threw one of her taser discs at him before he could become overly concerned about no one answering him. He went down, though was trying to lift his rifle. "I'll take that," she told him soothingly as she kicked it out of his reach. Turning to the door, she frowned at the locking mechanism. It had no windows to break, but did have a fingerprint scan. Picking up the guard to use his fingerprint wasn't particularly challenging once he stopped twitching from the electricity.

"Access denied," the machine said in Russian, and she frowned. Thinking of the Red Room, though, she supposed it wasn't surprising that they wouldn't just let any of their agents into every room. Pulling her tool kit off of her belt, she took the panel off and began to work at the circuitry underneath.

"Three hostiles approaching," Barnes' voice in her ear made her teeth clench.

"ETA?"

"Maybe 90 seconds."

She swore. The lock was complicated; it would take her a few minutes at least to override it. "Can you slow them down?"

"It would probably be more effective to stop them entirely."

"Do that, then. I'm having a bit of trouble with the door."

"Copy." The sound of three shots from his rifle could be heard even inside, though it just sounded like an odd popping at this distance. Not the surely deafening sound it made if you were close by. "Done."

Natasha knew Barnes had been concerned about ending a lot of lives when he was on missions, so Steve had gotten him some of the icer bullets the other agents tended to use. She used them sometimes, too, but buying regular ammunition was often easier – as was employing her other nonlethal weapons. It was preferable not to cause casualties, even if people guarding a HYDRA facility were some of the few for whom she would feel little remorse. Whether or not Barnes had used real bullets just now was unknown to her, but she wasn't going to think any less of him if he had.

Finally, the door opened with a hiss as it depressurized. Frowning a little, she pushed it open and stepped through. Inside, it was much colder. She was standing in a narrow corridor with thick cement walls on either side that extended two meters. Ahead, there was a spiral staircase leading down and nothing else. "Testing," she murmured, concerned that her comm wouldn't work anymore.

"Copy," Barnes replied immediately. It was faint and had more static, but it worked. For now. She eyed the staircase dubiously, then made her way down, taking care to make no sound. At the bottom, she was standing at the intersection of two corridors. It was dark and more than a little creepy. Taking a deep breath, she picked a direction and started walking. There were few sounds down here, perhaps because it was night and the workers may have gone home. No one ever went home in the Red Room, though, so she somewhat doubted that idea.

Eventually, she found a room containing a bank of computers with a large screen on the wall. The computers were already running, blinking green and blue in the darkness, and it didn't take her long to copy all their intel. She spent some time searching for any hidden files, which was what she was doing when the lights came on.

A man in his early twenties stood by the door, staring at her in shock. She smiled at him politely. "Who… who the hell are you?" he asked, taking a step back. He wasn't armed, as far as she could see, wearing regular workers' clothes instead of a guard uniform. There were marks on his neck and wrists that indicated he'd been shackled recently. Whether he'd escaped or just given into their demands, she figured she might have found someone helpful.

"I'm looking for your boss. Turgenov. Is he around?" she asked, straightening.

"He… he doesn't come here often," the young man replied, looking around nervously.

"Hmm," she responded as she stepped around the consoles and moved toward him. "I don't suppose you could tell me where to find him?"

Steadying his resolve, the youth fixed her with a glare. "Who are you?"

"An old friend," she answered, which wasn't untruthful.

"I don't want to help any friends of his," he snapped, looking ready to be punished for his defiance.

She smiled gently. "I didn't say we were still friends."

"You're going to stop him?"

"Going to try," she replied.

"There's a bar in Kazan where he does his business. And a club in Moscow. We get orders from there most of the time."

Natasha gave him a sympathetic look. "How many of you are there?"

He scuffed his feet, staring down at them. "Couple dozen."

"Well, we're going to destroy this place, so why don't we get everyone out that we can?"

"It's locked upstairs. No way out."

"We'll see about that."

There were fewer than a couple dozen, once she'd found the barracks. Still, it wasn't difficult to lead them all upstairs and out of the building. Barnes sounded surprised when she reported in, but didn't ask any questions. The group of captives were undoubtedly being experimented upon, and she called SHIELD to come investigate. She did not, however, wait for them to arrive, and she and Barnes headed off to Kazan instead of blowing the place up. SHIELD would want to investigate what they were doing. And even if she wasn't sure how far she could trust them, she would follow orders.

* * *

The bar in Kazan took a few hours to reach. Barnes drove for a while so Natasha could get some rest. If he was disappointed by how the op in Yekaterinburg had gone, he didn't show it. They didn't have time to stop for the night (or morning) since news of SHIELD's interference might change things where they were going. Maria had promised to be discrete and keep word from getting out as long as possible, but these things weren't exactly easy to contain. Natasha was anxious about it, and had trouble pushing the thoughts away to sleep.

"You do that kind of thing a lot?" Barnes asked, seeing that she was awake.

"Hmm?" she responded, sitting up to get her bearings.

He waved his right hand to indicate behind them. "Save hostages," he explained.

Shrugging, she took a drink from her water bottle. "When it comes up. It's not my area, generally." Something like a smirk appeared on Barnes' face. "What?"

"You were pretty great in there for it not to be your area."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Barnes. I'm sure you rescue people all the time when you're with Steve."

"Steve does," he agreed.

She looked over at him intently. "You don't?"

His smile was grim. "People are much more relieved to see Captain America than they are to see me."

That made sense – Steve was usually the first one to deal with civilians when the Avengers were involved, too. "Same here," she told him with a sigh, leaning back.

He glanced at her sharply before focusing back on the road. "Well, _I_ was relieved to see you in Kiel," he offered.

"I appreciate the sentiment," she responded graciously, settling back to try to sleep. She was aware of him looking at her again but he didn't say anything this time.

* * *

Disguising themselves as barflies was surprisingly easy – she did her makeup heavier than usual, but they were both disheveled enough to pass unnoticed as a result of being on the road for more than twenty four hours. The bar was about half full of patrons, most of them probably regulars, given the relatively early hour. They headed to the counter and ordered, scanning the crowd discretely. Natasha saw no one who looked like they were involved with Turgenov, and wondered what the next step should be.

Barnes was oddly focused on the news that was playing over the bartender's shoulder and didn't turn her way after she watched him for a few moments. Her attention roved over the place thoughtfully, searching for some way to get to where ever it was that Turgenov kept shop. Giving up, she unzipped her leather jacket a bit more and leaned over the counter to get the barkeep's attention.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, walking over.

"Tell Boris a friend of Constantin is here," she purred. The man visibly startled, which meant her reference was understood.

"He's not here, ma'am."

Frowning at him made him almost drop the glass he was holding. "I was told he would be here, waiting for me."

"I don't know nothing about that, ma'am. But he might be at the Water Spout in Moscow," he offered quickly, clearly anxious to get rid of them. He glanced over at Barnes nervously, then back to her.

She smiled beatifically. "Thank you. Let's go, milii moi," she directed at Barnes, who stood up and looked darkly at the barman before they left.

Once in the car, she took over driving again. Having a good lead made her feel better – none of the hostages had known the name of the club. Finding the bar had been a big enough challenge. "Did you know him?" she asked conversationally, referring to the barman.

"No. I just figured, if I was there as your muscle, I wouldn't be happy with him disappointing you."

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "My muscle?"

Barnes gave a laugh. "I know, you don't need any help in that department. But people would assume," he finished with a shrug.

"Hmm. I think I'll call you boys that from now on. Has a nice ring to it."

"Happy to help."


	13. For Me to Break Your Bread, For Me to

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **For me to break your bread, for me to take your word I had to steal it**

A dance club featured loud electronic music, darkness, flashing lights, and swarming bodies. It was not an ideal location to bring someone recovering from PTSD, and Natasha wondered if perhaps Barnes should wait outside until she'd scoped out the place. The subtle suggestion she attempted fell flat, and she just hoped he'd be alright in there. She always hated going to these things, mainly because of the noise. Quiet suited her far better, regardless of what she was doing.

She wore a slinky black dress that contained a surprising amount of her arsenal. The little matching clutch could carry the rest, so she was as armed as possible. Barnes wore black slacks and a button down shirt, and had a much easier time concealing his weaponry about his person. Despite the amount of metal they both had on them, they got in pretty quickly. It was early yet, and the place was mostly empty.

A table in the farthest corner provided a good vantage point, so Natasha led the way there, acting flirty enough to fit in with the other girls. Barnes gave a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes, too focused were they on their surroundings and she suppressed a sigh. This wasn't a good way to start things.

She ordered them drinks and sank onto one of the stools while Barnes leaned against the wall. His attitude might pass for nonchalance from far off, she supposed. But it was only a matter of time until word of SHIELD's raid on the facility in Yekaterinburg reached here, and they couldn't afford to look suspicious when it did. There were a few people around who did not look like regular club-goers. Some were security, some might be waiting to meet with Turgenov. None of them gave Natasha and Barnes more than a passing glance, but that wasn't particularly reassuring.

There were three doors out of the club – the front door through which they'd entered, and two on the back wall. No one was using the other two and Natasha waited patiently to see which people decided to go through which door. It was likely that one led to the office of the place, while the other might lead outside or to a back room. Where Turgenov would be was a mystery, but she was certain he'd reveal himself as the evening progressed.

She turned her attention to Barnes, who was subtly analyzing the place. It was good to see that he wasn't particularly on edge and not making it too obvious that he was evaluating everyone. Of course, if he was here as her muscle, as he'd said earlier, perhaps that was a normal thing for him to do. She'd never done any body guard work, unless you counted the part of an extraction where she was tasked with bringing the target in safely. So she couldn't be certain if he was playing the part well.

Nursing her drink, she took note of anyone who was doing the same. The club was just coming to life, so many of the patrons were holding back on the booze for now. Someone turned up the music and she smiled at the way Barnes started then frowned. Clearly, it wasn't his kind of noise. Fortunately, it did not seem like it would exacerbate his condition. Steve had said Barnes had a problem with down time, but not missions, and that seemed to be the case even under cover.

Finally, the more heavily-built men stopped milling about and got to work. The western back door acquired two bouncers, while the eastern had only one. Glancing back, Natasha caught Barnes' eye and nodded slightly toward the new development. He followed her gaze and clenched his jaw before returning her gesture. Taking care not to look like she was brooding, she considered how best to get the two of them through that door and away from reinforcements. There might be more people back there, of course, but they wouldn't have to worry about civilians getting in the way.

One of the other tables of patrons got up and headed for the door, and were let through after some discussion with the men standing in front of it. Natasha was careful to keep up her partying persona while she tracked how long it took for them to return. Seven and a half minutes later, the party left, looking upset. They were escorted quickly out of the establishment, attracting minimal attention. The efficiency was somewhat concerning – bluffing her way in might not work out.

Languidly, Natasha slid out of her seat and strode nonchalantly toward the guards, swinging her hips. Unsurprisingly, the two men stood closer together to block her passage and she smiled winningly at them.

"No entry," one told her firmly.

"Oh, I think Boris will want to see me," she replied, aware of Barnes standing just behind her by the way the man's eyes slid past her.

He frowned at her statement, focusing on her again. "Do you have an appointment, Miss…?"

"Romanova. Natalia Romanova. No, but I'm sure I don't need one to see an old friend," she purred. She could feel Barnes tense at the use of her real name, and the other bouncer's eyes widened. He leaned forward to whisper something to his more talkative fellow, who nodded.

"Wait here," the latter said while the other slipped through the door, presumably to ask Turgenov if he was willing to see a ghost from his past.

Natasha smiled wanly and folded her arms over her chest. Perhaps this wasn't the best tactic, but time wasn't on her side – regardless of how much care SHIELD took to avoid notice, Turgenov was going to be aware of anything off about his base in Yekaterinburg before too long. If he'd learned anything from the Red Room, he would be very suspicious of any changes from the expected. So getting face to face with him as soon as possible was worth the risk. She had little doubt that the Black Widow and the Winter Soldier would be difficult to capture, if it came to that. Though it was clear that Barnes didn't feel the same way, his jaw clenched and eyes taking in their surroundings rapidly.

The door opened and the same bouncer came out, nodding his head back to indicate they could enter. "Thank you," she said sweetly before stepping passed them. For a brief moment, she was concerned that they wouldn't let Barnes accompany her, but neither moved to stop him when he followed her. Unwise of them – clearly Turgenov hadn't gotten his operation as far along as he would have liked. He'd always been a good agent, paranoid enough to survive. Although, if he'd faked his death in that explosion, maybe she hadn't known him at all.

An unadorned concrete hallway extended a few meters in front of them before another door, more like that of a vault, blocked the passage. It opened out when they got close, a man in body armor holding it open. Inside, there was a pretty normal-looking office, and a familiar face sitting behind it. Boris looked understandably shocked to see her, and she smiled while she assessed how to take him in. There would certainly be an escape route that didn't involve going back through the club, she reasoned. So this might be easy.

"Natalia? What are you doing here?" Turgenov asked, staring at her, taking no notice of her companion.

She sat down in the chair across from him, her expression confident of her welcome. "Came to see for myself that you aren't nearly as dead as I thought you were," she answered pointedly. There were no physical scars on him to indicate that he'd actually lived through the blast, convincing her that it must have been faked.

The man swallowed, glancing toward his guard then at Barnes before answering. "I'm sorry, Natalia, I just... I couldn't stay there anymore," he explained with an almost-wistful lopsided smile. He was lying – perhaps attempting to garner sympathy by echoing the story of her defection that was certainly available to him.

Adopting an appropriately sympathetic expression, she nodded. "So, what have you been up to all these years?" she wondered innocuously.

He lit up at the question. "You know how it was back then. I got out, worked in the private sector for a while. But I have my own company now," he said proudly.

"So I've heard," she encouraged.

"We're doing great things, Natalia. I mean, not as great as you, of course," he added shyly. "But I think you'd make a great addition to our company, if you want to be out of the spotlight for a while."

Damn, how long had she been easy to read? Of course, that was a side-effect of releasing all her secrets on the internet. She pushed the thought away, looking convincingly interested. "Really? Because word on the street is that you've hitched your wagon to a Nazi cult."

He shook his head excitedly. "No, no, I'm just using their resources. I'd love to work with you again, Talia," he said with convincing sincerity. "And your associate is welcome to join as well," Boris added.

That part was less sincere as he stared at Barnes with a slight frown. "Happy to hear it," she put in smoothly, and Boris smiled faintly. For his part, Barnes remained impassive, though he met Turgenov's eyes almost in challenge.

Something flickered on Boris' face, and he stood up abruptly. Barnes tensed, ready to reach for a weapon. Natasha was similarly poised but not so obvious about it. "You're… You brought the Winter Soldier here?" Turgenov hissed at her, drawing his weapon as his guard did the same.

Sighing inwardly, Natasha lamented not being able to get more information out of him. It would be harder when he was in custody, if not impossible. The Red Room hadn't generally employed the same precautions as HYDRA in terms of captured agents, but that was probably more due to the intense conditioning done before sending anyone into the field. No one would give up information at the threat, or reality, of pain, after what they'd survived to serve in the first place.

There was likely an alarm of some sort that Turgenov could reach near his desk. The bookshelf behind him to the right hung oddly and probably concealed an escape route. If they could get the vault door shut before reinforcements arrived, they should be able to take out the guard and bring Turgenov with them without too much trouble.

The same thought must have occurred to Barnes, because he grabbed Turgenov's arm roughly using his left and pulled him away from his desk. Natasha took on the guard, and made quick work of him – Turgenov really needed to improve his hiring practices. Surely he wasn't just scraping the bottom of HYDRA's barrel... In any case, it had taken less than 30 seconds to incapacitate their target and Natasha couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Had her inexperience made her think he was a better agent than he really had been?

Barnes restrained Turgenov while she searched for a latch on the bookshelf. Boris was, unsurprisingly, alternating between insults and cries for help. It was easy to ignore him, but Barnes suddenly slammed him down on his desk, so he must have said something inflammatory. Or maybe he'd just gotten tired of his noise. She'd shut the vault door after taking out the guard, so it was highly unlikely that any of their noise would be registered outside in the club.

"We good?" she asked when she'd gotten the door open to reveal an alley. Barnes' expression was intense, but did not seem to be a result of some difficulty in keeping Turgenov contained. He gave her a nod, and she led the way outside.

Getting him to the car was dicey, but then they were on the road, their quarry carefully bound in the back seat, SHIELD on the way. She'd considered putting him in the trunk, but didn't like to let him out of her sight – she'd lost people that way. They'd put a gag on him in the alley, but he must have wriggled out of it because he was snarling at them again.

"You know what they used to say about you, Natalia? That you _liked_ it, liked the pain, liked killing little children. No wonder your parents left you there – something was wrong with you from the start. We all understood the sacrifice necessary for Mother Russia, but you were built for it. No wonder you're here with this wraith," he managed to get out before Barnes reached back to take care of him.

"Sorry you had to hear that," Barnes murmured. She smiled at him politely to show it didn't matter. It did, though, of course; how she hated having missions that involved people from her past. Staying focused on the present job was how she dealt with all that had happened to her, so having an op that forced her to remember was unpleasant. Maybe she'd take a break from working for Fury for a while. Turgenov had been right on the money about her desire to be out of the spotlight. Espionage was more of a challenge when half the world knew your face.


	14. Way Up North I Took My Day

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Updates may be a little sporadic for the next couple days, but still once a day :)**

 **Way up north I took my day**

A quinjet met them out of town to pick up Turgenov. He glared at her, but didn't manage to speak to her again. The agents were not ones she'd met before, but she recognized them from their files, so she was willing to accompany them back to Yekaterinburg, where there was a jet that would take all of them back to the States. Natasha spoke little beyond what was necessary, and Barnes spoke not at all. She could feel his eyes on her occasionally, which she studiously ignored.

The jet had a cell for Turgenov, which was nice. After smiling politely when shown the quarters SHIELD had arranged for her, she headed down to make sure her former ally was properly contained. The room was bullet-proof, with a glass panel so she could watch him. He was sitting on his bed, rubbing gingerly at his head where Barnes had struck him. When she'd met him, she had liked him immediately. He had been a great teacher to her – better than she'd been to anyone else, she thought with some bitterness. And now he was going away for a long time. The things he'd had his scientists working on… She didn't want to think about it.

Natasha was aware of a presence near her, and glanced up to find Barnes standing a few meters away. A thin smile of greeting crossed her face before she turned her attention back to the prisoner. Barnes moved tentatively closer until he sat down on the bench beside her. Other than the roar of the engines, it was silent down here. She waited a few moments to see what Barnes would do, but he just stared intently into the cell, an unreadable expression on his face. So she let herself slip back into her thoughts.

Just because Boris – no, better call him Turgenov – had been a friend at a time where she had few allies didn't mean anything. Who she was then wasn't who she was now. So she shouldn't feel betrayed by him. He'd been trained by the Red Room, been indoctrinated by their teachings, so it should have been no surprise to find him still following along with what they would have wanted. What really bothered her was how he'd left.

"He was wrong, you know."

Surprised at the sound, if not the sentiment, she turned her head sharply in his direction. Barnes was looking intently at his hands, not at her, but was very earnest. "Was he?" she asked.

"Just because… just because you took to it doesn't mean you chose it. Doesn't mean you wouldn't have… chosen something else, if you'd had the chance," he said quietly.

The idea was clearly one with which he struggled, and she was touched at his attempt to share it with her. "You think so?"

He nodded decisively, then looked up at her tentatively. "You wouldn't have chosen to leave, to do good things now, if you were… predisposed to doing bad."

Well, that was a new thought. When she'd told Bruce that she was a monster – that was a low moment. It wasn't how she really felt most of the time. But she wasn't a hero. She wasn't Steve Rogers or Thor. She was just trying to make up for whom she used to be. "I was awfully good at it, though," she murmured wistfully.

"You thought you were doing the right thing. Didn't you?" he pressed.

"Yes."

"It's not your fault that turned out to be wrong," he said firmly, his attention turning back to Turgenov's cell.

Gingerly, she reached over and took his hand. "Thank you, James."

He squeezed her fingers but didn't respond.

* * *

Eventually, she got up and went to bed. When she suggested he do the same, he'd just smiled at her and muttered something politely noncommittal. So she went upstairs on her own and slept for a long time. When she awoke, they were just touching down in upstate New York. A car was there to take her, Barnes, and Turgenov to headquarters. She wouldn't admit it, but she was relieved to find that their prisoner was drugged, so wouldn't be saying anything else. Not that what he said would normally bother her. It was just… she didn't remember much about herself from back then, and disliked that gap in her knowledge.

She was tired, but glad to finally be back in the familiar debriefing room, waiting for Fury. Barnes was sitting across from her again, seeming very far away. She suspected he hadn't taken her advice to sleep, and hoped that he would be able to after they finished here. Steve would not be happy with her if he didn't, she thought with a smile.

"Hmm?" Barnes questioned her expression.

"I was just thinking the earful Rogers is going to give me if he thinks I didn't take good care of you."

The ghost of a smile crossed his features. "I'll have to get some shut-eye before I see him, then, so I don't get you in trouble."

"I'd appreciate it. Captain America's disappointed face is something no one should be subjected to," she teased.

A real smile this time, and Barnes was about to reply when the door opened and Fury arrived at last.

"You look like something the cat dragged in," he said without preamble.

"Maybe you could have waited until tomorrow for this meeting," Natasha replied.

Fury gave her a quelling look. "Figured you'd want to know what we've managed to get done before you wind down." Neither of them said anything to the contrary, so he continued, pulling out a file from the case he was carrying. "The facility you liberated was their main one. Testimony from the people you saved revealed that he's been attempting experiments like those done on the Maximoffs as a way to impress HYDRA. They were, apparently, less than thrilled at the thought of letting Turgenov hitch a ride."

"Why?" she asked, unable to stop herself. Belatedly, she thought a better question was how they could replicate the experiments without Loki's scepter.

"The way he left Department X, I'd say. Took several agents and a lot of intel with him, so they're concerned about his being a flight risk."

Natasha schooled her expression carefully to hide how she felt about this revelation. "What were they using in the experiments?"

"Nasty stuff, you can read the technical analysis later. Not many survived, and they were always working hard to find more. The ones you got to hadn't been dosed yet, so they should be able to return to their lives after our agents have finished their analyses. The rest of his business was that of a glorified mob boss, so nothing new there. We shut it down and are getting all his people sorted out."

"What about him?" Barnes asked.

Fury frowned a little, staring down at the file. "He's in a cell, and will be for the rest of his life. We haven't gotten much out of him, and I don't know that I believe any of what we have. But he's nothing to worry about anymore," he added, looking a little concerned at Natasha.

"Good," she muttered.

Clearing his throat, Fury motioned to a piece of paper. "I have your report. Seems thorough, but I'll let you know if we have any questions as more things come up. You're dismissed."

Natasha stood up first and didn't look at either of them before leaving the room and heading for her own quarters. It would be nice to be back, she thought irrelevantly as she made her way to the elevator at the end of the hall. Barnes didn't follow immediately, but had caught up with her while she was waiting for the doors to open. He hung back awkwardly until she took pity on him and motioned to join her when she'd stepped inside.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

Biting her lip, she considered if she did. Maybe it would help. "Boris was… a friend. I, uh, I don't usually have a lot of those. But there was an explosion on one of our missions, and he used that to cover his escape."

"And you want to know why he picked one with you," Barnes finished for her.

Glancing up at him, she nodded. "The rest, what he's done since then, isn't all that surprising," she said with a shrug.

His expression was grave as he regarded her. "I understand."

She looked intently at the ground, then reached over to hit the button for her floor, feeling foolish to have forgotten to press it.

Barnes cleared his throat when the doors opened, and she looked up at him. "It was a pleasure working with you, Natalia. I hope the opportunity comes up again. And… if you ever want to talk, I'm here," he added quietly, not quite making eye contact.

A smile, only somewhat forced, spread across her face as she held out her hand. "Thank you, James. I'll see you around."

He nodded, and she walked toward her room, aware of his eyes on her retreating back. It made her want to shrug, or turn around, or something. She wasn't sure, and pushed the odd feeling away, blaming her exhaustion. Her quarters were secluded from the others, and subsequently smaller. But she didn't care – she liked having a place to be alone. It was something she hadn't had much of as a child.

* * *

A shower and a few hours a sleep made the world seem like a much brighter place than it had after debriefing, and she was singing to herself while she unpacked. It had been a good mission – gone off without a hitch and she'd put the bad guy away. Personal history with him aside, it was a satisfactory outcome. Working with Barnes had gone quite well, too, and she wouldn't be resistant next time she was asked to do so. He was no Clint, of course, but his instincts were similar enough to hers to make things go smoothly.

The sound of knuckles rapping against her door put a stop to her analysis, and she went to open it. Steve stood outside, looking like he just came in from a run. The usual awkward expression he had when he came here was on his face, since her quarters opened directly onto her bedroom, unlike the others, which featured a living area. The location of this one suited her better, and she preferred a more closed-in space.

"Hey, Rogers," she said with more warmth than usual.

He must have noticed, by the look on his face, but he didn't comment. "Romanoff. How'd he do?"

Of course that was why he was here. She smiled wanly. "Just fine. Maybe a better partner than you," she teased.

That startled a laugh out of him, and she felt pretty pleased with herself. "Really? Great. No problems?"

She considered briefly, then shook her head, deciding not to mention when Barnes had left without indicating where he'd gone. Other than that one aberration, he'd been very professional. "He's good, Steve."

Unsurprisingly, he was happy about this news. "That's great, Nat. Glad you both got back safely, and I hear it was a success?"

"Yeah, we took down the whole operation. Not single-handedly, of course," she added when he looked overly impressed.

"Well, there's always next time," he said dryly. "He was asleep, when I got in, so I thought I'd come by. I didn't wake you?"

"No, I was just unpacking. I slept on the plane," she explained, immediately regretting sharing when he frowned.

"Bucky didn't?"

Pressing her lips together, she shrugged. "I don't know, Steve, I was asleep," she told him matter-of-factly.

"Right. Well, thank you for doing this. We owe you one."

"I'll hold you to that," she teased.

He grinned. "Great. I'll talk to you later, Nat," he added, turning to leave.

There were things she wanted to say all of a sudden, things about Barnes that Steve was the only one who could corroborate on, but she just smiled. "Later."


	15. All in All, It Was a Pretty Nice Day

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **All in all, it was a pretty nice day**

The muscles in her legs and core pulled taught as she held onto the punching bag while Wanda struck it. She had insisted on training regularly as well as with her powers, and Natasha could see the wisdom in that decision. They didn't know enough about her abilities for her to rely solely on them in the field – who knew what might cause them not to work anymore?

It was clear that they were closely tied with her emotions, and Natasha had always found that a good workout kept her head level. So perhaps this was benefiting the other woman in more ways than just the obvious. The two of them hadn't exactly gotten along initially, but had recently begun to bond, in part because of how few females there were on the team. And in part because Fury had subtly suggested Natasha work a little harder on befriending the younger woman, who might very well be too intimidated to make the first step.

So Natasha had dropped by when she was training and offered to spot her a few months ago, and now they met most days that they were both in the building. Other than the occasionally midnight meeting in the kitchen, they would otherwise see very little of each other. Wanda had seen some action outside of the facility, but she was still a volatile asset. By her own admission, she wanted to get a better handle on her abilities before risking endangering her team.

They finished with the punching bag, and Natasha gave a few pointers about her form before they moved onto the plastic mats in front of the mirrors. An array of weights was carefully laid out to meet the needs of anyone, from Sokovian refugee to super soldier. Natasha guided Wanda to ones that would be a challenge but not enough to frustrate her, and they got to work.

"You do this every day?" Wanda asked.

Natasha set down her weight and nodded, taking a pull from her water bottle. "It's a habit," she said with a shrug.

"Even when you're in the field?"

"Well, it's harder there, especially if I'm undercover. But I'm also more likely to be actually using all that muscle I've built up for its intended purpose, so it's not as big a deal if I take a few days off," she explained, allowing a break.

Wanda considered this. "It helps you, when you have time off? To focus on something," she questioned haltingly.

Smiling grimly, Natasha nodded again. "Relaxation isn't one of my skillsets."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Hmm?"

Natasha was puzzled by the concerned look on Wanda's face. "I mean, if you never take a break, just keep working… Seems like that would open yourself to mistakes brought on by fatigue."

"You've been talking to Sam," Natasha replied with a grin. "He goes on and on about that whenever he sees me down here. Did he tell you to say that?"

"This is what he says to me whenever I get frustrated with reigning in my powers," Wanda answered shyly. "Glad to hear I'm not the only one."

"You're in good company, I'm afraid. I guess Sam's the only one who's figured out that balance between work and life," she hypothesized with a shrug.

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. "Is this what you did, growing up?" she asked, waving to encompass the whole of the gym.

"Well, sometimes."

"I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, Natasha," Wanda said apologetically in response to her reticence.

Waving off her concern, Natasha forced a smile. "I'm sure you don't want the details of how I was raised. It's certainly not a regimen I will be insisting you follow."

Wanda could clearly see through the other woman's nonchalance, but didn't press the matter. "What would you suggest?"

"Cardio, weight training, learning how to defend yourself against someone bigger and stronger than you."

"Since that's most everyone."

"Exactly," Natasha said with a more genuine smile this time. "You have to use their weight against them. It's what I always do."

Wanda stood up and looked toward the boxing ring. "Can you show me?"

Though changes in schedule generally bothered Natasha, she decided to go along with what the younger woman wanted. Wanda wasn't her trainee, not in any official capacity, and it didn't seem like a good idea to insist that she stick to what Natasha thought she should do. So long as she was improving her physical skills, did it really matter how?

"Sure," she said with equanimity, stretching as she headed over, Wanda following more slowly. "How much training like this have you had?"

They slid under the ropes as she asked and then headed to the opposite side of the ring. "A little. I've spent more time working on controlling my abilities than learning any new ones."

"So, the basics?"

Wanda nodded, and Natasha set about demonstrating stances, describing their uses. Then she showed her different blocks and deflections, reminding her that these would be far more useful than outright attacks. Let the other guy tire himself out before you attack. It wasn't advice Natasha always followed, of course, but she'd had more training (and practice) than most anyone she might come up against.

They were in the midst of this when Vision came in. Natasha wondered if androids needed to use gyms or if he would just stay as he was without any upkeep. In any case, it was obvious he was here to see Wanda, since he immediately headed their way with a shy smile on his usually grave face.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully, and Natasha thought she'd never get over how he sounded exactly like JARVIS.

Wanda returned his expression, and murmured a greeting of her own.

"I don't mean to interrupt," he added apologetically, looking at Natasha.

"You're not," she assured him, and got back into position. Wanda did the same after a pause, and they continued, though Wanda was clearly too distracted to perform as well as she had been. Of course, they had been at it for over an hour, so perhaps she was just tired. Natasha had to remind herself that not everyone had her stamina.

"That's enough for today," she said graciously, stepping back and wiping her face with a towel.

Vision held up the ropes while Wanda ducked under them. "That was very good," he told her.

"Thank you," she replied softly, glancing toward Natasha, who nodded her agreement. "I'm sure I won't ever be as good as Nat, but I hope I am improving."

"Agent Romanoff is a force to behold, I have seen," Vision agreed. "But you have your own skills, and I hope we won't need a replacement for her any time soon," he continued, looking between the two of them.

"I plan on sticking around," Natasha said reassuringly when Wanda looked concerned at the thought.

Relief flooded her expression and Natasha considered how poorly the Sokovian would take any further losses in her life. The woman had lost everything – it was no wonder control of her powers was not always in her grasp. All of them had lost people, of course, but not quite in the same way, nor as recently.

"I'm glad to hear it," Vision said, putting his hand on Wanda's shoulder.

"Thank you for all your help, Natasha," Wanda stated quietly. "I would like to hear sometime about how you became so good at these things, especially for a person so young."

Natasha leaned against the ropes and gave a mischievous smile. "Well, obviously, it was from dancing."

"Dancing?" Wanda asked, surprised, while Vision gave a laugh.

"Ballet," Natasha explained, and struck a pose.

Wanda smiled, looking impressed. "Do you still know the steps?"

"Perhaps. I'm afraid my muscle memory is storing something a bit more aggressive these days," she explained wistfully.

Vision nodded suddenly as if something made sense that had been bothering him. Both of them looked at him expectantly. "I have seen you fight, Agent Romanoff, and always thought it was singularly graceful. Not like any style I had encountered previous to meeting you."

"Thank you," Natasha replied awkwardly.

Wanda looked at her intently. "I have not had the occasion to pay much attention to your style when you're in the field. Perhaps you could do a demonstration for me?"

"Right now?" Natasha's gaze altered dubiously between the two of them. Vision was unpredictable and probably as strong as Thor – it was a relief that he was on the same side as her. And Wanda was no challenge.

The other woman had turned to look across the expanse of the room at the elevators on the other side. "Steve's friend is here. Perhaps he would make an adequate partner," she offered.

Natasha got the distinct impression that Wanda had come up with this idea already knowing Barnes was on his way. And the carefully neutral tone she'd used furthered her suspicion. But the door was opening and there he was, so she had to make a decision. He would certainly make for a good opponent, as much of a challenge as she wanted.

"Hey, Barnes, come here," she called.

His expression showed his discomfort at finding them all there, and was perhaps relieved to join them, instead of doing whatever he'd come down here to do under their potential scrutiny. They all greeted each other politely and Natasha considered that the presence of literally anyone else in the building would have made the four of them more comfortable. Which was why it was important for them to spend more time together – forging bonds off the field was hugely effective for performance in it.

"Wanda was hoping to see a sample of some hand-to-hand combat, and I could use a partner," Natasha explained in the ensuing pause.

Barnes was better rested than when she'd last seen him, and looked grave at her suggestion. He glanced over at Vision and Wanda, both wearing politely hopeful expressions, then back to her. "You sure?" he asked softly.

It was clear on his face that he was thinking of their previous encounters. And how they hadn't ended very well for her. Before he could start apologizing again, she smiled at him and stepped back away from the ropes. "Come on, Barnes. As long as you don't cheat with that arm of yours, I think I have a chance," she teased.

A smile flickered across his face, which was something of a relief to her, and he climbed up to join her. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," she responded. And they began.


	16. And I Put the Hood Right Back Where

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And I put the hood right back where**

Natasha had one leg back to balance her weight as she squared off with Barnes, who visibly tensed his muscles but otherwise didn't move. It seemed that he was waiting for her to attack him, which would put her at a distinct disadvantage. Still, Wanda had requested to see her skills in the field, and attacking first was often how she worked. She just preferred not to have someone waiting for her to do so.

Lunging, she feinted to the right and caught his side with her left foot. It did little damage, as he twisted almost clear before grabbing her ankle. Dropping to her other knee to pull him forward, she slid across the smooth surface of the ring to break his hold by getting him off balance. It worked, and she followed it up with a swift kick to his other side. He did not attempt to grab her this time, but did manage to dodge completely. Then he dove at her, knocking her down, the air leaving her lungs on impact. Ignoring the alarm bells this set off in her brain, she kicked off from his knees to get out from her overpowered position, jumping onto his back before he could stand.

Her legs were wrapped around his shoulders and she swung herself to get enough momentum to bring him down. He grabbed her left leg with his right and twisted her off of him as though she were weightless, and she tried not to think about the last time that happened. In any case, her landing this time was much softer, and she jumped at him again. She was able to knock him off balance and they both crashed onto the mat, him on his back and her about his shoulders.

His face had been devoid of expression up until this point, but now a smile began to tug at his lips. Before he could say whatever he was thinking, she became aware of their audience again, and that it had grown larger.

"If I might interrupt," Sam put in when he noticed her attention had wavered from the sparring.

"You may," she replied, getting to her feet and offering Barnes a hand up. He took it, and she carefully didn't pay attention to how he was looking at her – she was familiar with how beaten men tended to view her.

"That was amazing," Wanda said, clapping her hands a little. "You must have been a beautiful dancer."

Sam frowned at her slightly, surprised. "Dancer?"

"Natasha used to do ballet when she was being trained," Wanda explained.

"Hmm. Well, I'm afraid you won't be doing any of that where we're going, Nat," Sam said, folding his arms over his chest appraisingly.

What he was assessing was lost on her, so she climbed out of the ring, glancing back to make sure her partner was doing the same before coming to stand in front of Sam. "What's going on?"

"Rhodey asked for a favor and I know you just got back, but we could use someone with your skills," he explained.

Natasha was aware of the other three melting away to give them some privacy. "Happy to help. You know I'm always ready for a mission," she replied, with perhaps more honesty than she would have preferred.

Sam smiled slightly. "Good to hear. I'll let you get cleaned up. We'll be in the conference room whenever you're ready."

Nodding, she headed for the showers and considered the commitment she'd just made. Going on back-to-back ops was generally frowned upon, and she should not discount how the other one had affected her. She may be compromised already, though she should find out what the mission parameters were to see if she could handle them. Well, of course she could handle them – it was a matter of being a reliable teammate that concerned her. If she was suffering from fatigue, she would let down her partners when they depended on her. So hopefully this would be a short one.

* * *

Showered and dressed in civilian clothes, she got to the debriefing room to find Sam and Rhodey waiting for her. A polite smile appeared on her face in greeting and she sat down next to Sam.

"What's the plan, boys?" she asked, leaning back in her chair, looking at Sam first.

He held up his hands. "We're answering to the Colonel on this one, Nat."

Rhodey snorted. "It's off the books, guys. No need to follow protocol. There are some arms dealers in the Ukraine who got their hands on a HYDRA stock-pile. We're going to need to step in and get it away from them before they find buyers."

"And how did they manage that?" Natasha asked.

"Well, that's one reason we're going to be needing a master spy to give us a hand. Especially if any of it has left the facility," Rhodey responded, looking grave.

She nodded, glancing at Sam, who was equally serious. Must be some nasty stuff. "Alright, so you need me to get you past their security, we storm the place, take their weapons, and track down where any missing inventory has gotten to?"

Sam grinned at Rhodey. "Told you," he said fondly.

The colonel shook his head with a smile. "Glad you're on our side, Nat. Let's get started."

* * *

The flight to Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine was not a short one, and Natasha watched the clouds pass by as she considered what kinds of weapons they might have stored there. Hopefully it was well-catalogued, so they could determine if anything got out before having to resort to questioning the guys in charge. If they were dyed in the wool HYDRA agents, that wouldn't do any good anyway. She wondered how they kept finding these people…

Sam and Rhodey had information, but not the kind of specs she would have preferred for a mission. They knew where the place was and the terrain, as though the three of them were some kind of invading force. Of course, with Sam's gear and Rhodey's War Machine suit, it wasn't far off. She would be distinctly out of place in her tac suit, even if she had brought her batons as well as her usual arsenal. And to have that added to the fact that they didn't have blue prints of the facility, or any intention of getting in undetected made her uncomfortable. She was a spy, not a soldier.

It was not a new thought, the difference between the two, but she didn't think she'd felt the difference so acutely for a while. Which was an odd thought. Why hadn't she been considering how differently her soldier teammates operated from her own methods? Wanda and Vision were neither soldier nor spy, but the rest of the team had all been in the military. So she was brought in when a more subtle approach was needed.

Her last few missions had been on her own, and then she'd brought Barnes along. The solo ones were obviously the easiest for her, since she didn't have to worry about conflicting methodologies. And the one with Barnes… Well, he'd pretty much been on the same page as her the whole time. If he shared the same priorities as Sam, Steve, and Rhodey as a result of his soldiering during the war, it was no longer at the forefront. Wetwork was a spy's game, and he'd been doing that far longer.

"How's it going?" Sam asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

He sank into the chair across from her, and she smiled distantly. "I'm alright. Just a little tired. How's this going down, again?"

He opened the file that had been sitting on the table in front of her and pointed to an aerial photograph. "This is the place where they operate. You'll shut down the alarms and we'll go in. The cache is here, so we'll hit that and take what we can. We may need to track down something they've already sold, which is your forte."

Her expression turned grim and she nodded. "The two of you are going to sneak in there?"

"The three of us," he corrected affably. "I'm sure you can give us some pointers on going unnoticed."

"I'm sure I can," she replied with a snort. He pretended to be offended.

"I don't like your tone, madam," he sniffed, and she laughed.

Sam was great to have on a mission – he always knew when to break the tension. "You invited me along, Wilson," she admonished.

"You're absolutely right, I guess I'll just put up with your condescension. Now, get ready, we're going to be jumping soon."

She wrinkled her nose – the Falcon and War Machine flew around on their own power all the time, so she wasn't surprised when informed of how they would be exiting the plane. But she wasn't happy about it. She much preferred to land and then drive over to their destination, especially as then there would be an escape vehicle. Now, she'd just have to depend on the two of them possibly having to carry her if things went awry and they needed to get away in a hurry. And she was not fond of that scenario.

"Should have stayed home," she muttered to herself as she strapped on her parachute and looked dubiously at the door Rhodey was pulling open. Both he and Sam were wearing their gear and she felt unusually exposed in her own. Having her batons helped, but still. A suit like theirs would not go unappreciated.

Focusing in on the scenario at hand, she jumped out of the plane and listened to the wind whistle passed her ears while she counted to twenty. Then she pulled the line and forced herself to keep breathing against the sharp jerk of the straps across her chest. Rhodey was already on the ground, and Sam was a ways below her. The facility was about a mile away, if the wind hadn't carried her too far from the drop zone, and hopefully hadn't registered their presence. Well, they wouldn't have registered her, but she wasn't too sure about the others.

Finally, she hit the ground where they were waiting. "Ready?" she asked, unhooking the parachute.

"Let's go," Rhodey replied, starting off at a fast walk.

The two of them had wanted to fly in, carrying her, but she'd suggested something stealthier would be a better course of action. There were only three of them after all; storming the place was a little ambitious. With a thin smile to Sam, the two of them followed suit.


	17. You Could Taste Heaven Perfectly

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Particularly A! Nat's on her own adventure for a chapter or two, but then Bucky will be back :) I'm very glad that you're enjoying their relationship develop without the Red Room stuff - I hope you like the resolution! (which is still like 5 chapters away)**

 **You could taste heaven perfectly**

Getting to the place was easy; avoiding the sentries was less so. Sam was more accustomed to stealth missions than Rhodey, but both stepped back to let her take the lead. After watching the men moving for a while, she found the pattern and they slipped through. Rhodey in particular had been growing antsy, and Sam was no more comfortable with the waiting. It made her think of Barnes' ability to wait patiently at least as long as she could – probably a result of being a sniper both during the war and after it.

The facility was built like a bunker and would be a challenge to breach. But nowhere was impenetrable, and she searched carefully for any access points that were available besides the main door. Rhodey grimaced when she discovered a grate that she could slip through, while Sam looked concerned.

"I'll get the alarms shut down, then you guys can take out the guards. Quietly," she warned.

"Good luck," Rhodey said, pulling down his faceplate again.

Sam gave her a nod, and she climbed into the dank space, covering her nose. Espionage wasn't always like this, of course, but she considered as she crawled along that soldiers usually got to be outside. Lots of marching, much less squeezing through the air ducts. As far as she knew, anyway. The path she was following turned abruptly to the right, which seemed strange, but she continued along until she found an opening.

Dropping easily from what was now the ceiling of a room, she surveyed her surroundings. It contained a few dusty pieces of furniture, so she counted herself lucky to be in a storage room of some sort. No sign of life, either in the room or in the hallway outside when she got to the door. She slipped out and began walking, listening hard for anyone else. Figuring that a search for the stockpile down here wouldn't be a waste of her time, she opened each door slowly as she passed it and glanced inside.

All were unoccupied, and most indicated that they had been that way for a while, so she didn't have high hopes of finding anything. But one gave her pause, and she bit her lip in the doorway. The room was mostly empty, but contained a metal chair and a person-sized tube. She'd seen the pictures in the file she'd gotten for Steve and a part of her half-expected to see Barnes' ghastly face inside the round window. A shiver ran through her as she pictured being pushed in there to be frozen, or, maybe worse, waking up.

Pausing in her search, she moved slowly over to look at it more closely, though not really sure why. She pulled open the door and peered inside, jumping when Sam's voice interrupted her.

"Romanoff?"

"I'm inside – some kind of storage basement. No sign of what we came here for, but I'm looking for a way to let you in," she answered quietly, pulling herself away from the remains of the Winter Soldier project.

There was a pause, no doubt while the two of them discussed her progress. "Alright, report back when you can," Rhodey ordered.

She was not interested in lingering down here, so hurried to find a staircase. There was a sentry she had to take care of on her way, but that was almost second nature to her by this point in her career. In any case, she found the security room within fifteen minutes, and had incapacitated the guard before he knew she was there. A wall of monitors held no sign of her teammates, which was good news – she hadn't been certain about where the cameras were located. A few keystrokes shut down the alarms and, happily, unlocked all the doors. Well, maybe not all of them, but everything automated.

"It's done," she reported obediently, searching the premises for the stockpile in question. Clearly, there were HYDRA things here, and she supposed this building had been a base. That wasn't what Rhodey had implied, but perhaps he hadn't deemed it important. There was no tactical advantage in knowing the place's history, she thought in annoyance. In her experience, any piece of information could be hugely advantageous, but not everyone thought that way.

Pushing down her feelings, she watched as the two of them took care of the guards and headed inside. She waited patiently while the images of her teammates made their way toward her location. Once they were safely passed the more populated areas, she sounded the fire alarm. It might make the HYDRA agents think they were being attacked rather than leave the building, but she felt it was worth a try. In any case, she had access to all the security measures and wouldn't be letting anyone use whatever toys had been installed to protect the facility.

"We're here," Sam said, sounding out of breath.

From what she'd seen on the cameras, she wasn't surprised. "About time. I think I found the stash," she said when she opened the door.

Rhodey took point, being the most indestructible one, and she told him where to go. It was a fairly straight-forward place – not as much of a maze as many of these kinds of places she'd been through. Going down a southbound hallway, up some stairs, and then there was a vault. There were, of course, about twenty guards waiting for them by that point, and Natasha hoped no reinforcements would be arriving.

Charging her batons, she dove into the fray a moment after Rhodey and Sam had done the same. The guards were wearing body armor and it took more than one hit to bring them down. So by the time she'd taken care of those closest to her, the War Machine and the Falcon had done the rest. Not that she minded, of course – this wasn't why she'd been brought along.

"You think you can open it?" Sam asked, inspecting the door.

"Let's find out," she replied with a smile. "Cover me."

The two of them stood with their backs to her, and she was aware of more people coming before she turned her focus on the heavy door. Using the tools in her belt, she was able to gain access to the control panel and set about shorting it out. She had no attention to spare for the battle going on behind her, and had to trust that her teammates wouldn't let anything happen to her. It wasn't something with which she was generally comfortable, but she could get over it. As long as she hurried this along.

Finally, the damn thing opened, and she stood up in relief. Inside, as hoped, there were crates marked with warnings like flammable and biohazard. Also, less expected, a desk containing a computer was against the wall with a man sitting at it, staring at her in terror.

She strode across the room and grabbed him, pulling him away from the computer before he could do anything with it.

"Chyornaya Vdova," he gasped at her, and she forced a smile instead of giving into her annoyance at being so recognizable.

"Has any of it left this room?" she demanded, pushing him against the wall and holding one of her batons to his throat.

Clearly he was here for clerical work, not as an agent, because he was shaking terribly, and staring passed her with wide eyes. A sharp press f her weapon against his sensitive skin brought his attention back to her and he shook his head quickly before it turned into a nod.

"Which is it?" she snarled.

He twisted ineffectually and she was vaguely aware that the sounds outside had stopped. That put her on edge, but she kept her focus on the man, charging her baton and giving him a look.

"Please, I have a family!" he cried out.

"And if you want to see them again, you'll give me a straight answer," she replied.

"I… they took a box with them, I think. I was supposed to wait here for orders on the rest of it," he stuttered.

She dropped him and pressed her fingers to her temples briefly. Great. Because a wild goose chase was exactly how she had been hoping this mission would end.

"Sam?" she asked into her comm.

The channel opened and she could hear the familiar sounds of people fighting each other. "Kinda busy."

"We're almost done, Romanoff," Rhodey told her, sounding less busy.

"Found their clerk. Seems something's missing," she told them resignedly.

Rhodey swore quietly, and Sam may have as well, but was harder to make out. "Alright, well, keep him there. We'll come check it out soon."

The man was attempting to crawl away, but she grabbed him and dragged him to the chair, binding him to it. Then she began to search the computer for any relevant intel. She'd download all of it, of course, but looked for an inventory while she waited.

"Everything okay in here?" Sam's voice came behind her after a little while.

"We're fine," she replied placidly, still intent on the computer.

Sam came up beside her. "Rhodey is guarding the prisoners. Need me to go get him?"

"No, I don't think so. We don't need to take any of this stuff in, do we?" she asked, turning and gesturing to the room at large.

Frowning slightly, Sam looked around. "I suppose not. What are you thinking?"

"Why don't we just set it off? Most of it, anyway," she added.

"I don't know," he began.

She motioned to the screen and he leaned down to read it. "It's an inventory. A good blast should destroy everything, at least to the point that no one else can use it. Then we don't have to worry about getting it to some bunker."

"I'll ask him. You done in here otherwise?"

"Yeah. I can handle this guy," she jerked her head toward the cowering HYDRA goon.

Sam smiled slightly. "Alright." He took off at a run, opening his wings once he was outside of the vault.

Biting her lip, she considered if this was the best option. Probably – they would have to steal a truck or something to get all of it out of here, and then had a lot of transporting to do before it was safe. And, if the mission was off the books, the fewer opportunities for witnesses, the better.

Rhodey, as usual, agreed with her assessment. So she methodically set as many timers as she could, and dragged her prisoner along until she found her teammates. "Let's go," she said, and they escorted the HYDRA agents out of the blast radius. As she watched the facility burst into flames and began to crumble, she hoped no one had been left inside. Then she turned her attention to her phone, searching through the intel to find out what had happened to the men who had been in charge of this place. And where they had taken that last weapon.


	18. Feel Out the Summer Breeze

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Feel out the summer breeze**

Dnepropetrovsk was a big city, and they headed to a hotel there to regroup, having called the authorities to deal with the remains of HYDRA. Getting Rhodey inside unnoticed turned out to be a challenge, since he couldn't just leave the suit or carry it, but they managed. Chasing down leads was more Natasha's purview, but Sam and Rhodey helped where they could. It was still a couple hours before she had anything definitive.

"Well, it's not good news," she told them with a sigh.

Rhodey was sitting by the window, working on a particularly nasty bullet hole his suit had acquired in the course of the evening. Sam was in his civilian clothes and heating up some supper for them using the hotel's kitchenette. Both of them turned to look at her when she spoke, resigned expressions on their faces; no doubt these mirrored her own.

"There are three brothers in charge of that place. All of them were at the facility two days ago, and they went separate ways when they left."

"And any of them could have the device," Rhodey finished for her.

Nodding, she folded her arms over her chest. "Exactly. They seem to be in Serbia, Armenia, and Moscow, respectively. We're going to have to move fast on this, since I'm sure they're in search of buyers."

"Split up?" Sam asked, brow furrowed.

"I'm afraid we don't have time to do anything else," Natasha told him.

"I can't ask you to do that," Rhodey responded. "We'll pick the most likely one and stick together."

She ran her fingers through her hair. "The odds are pretty bad in that course of action."

Both turned to Sam. "I'm just here as an extra pair of hands," he said with a smile. "Whatever you two experts decide is fine with me."

"We've all been cleared for solo missions, and we can call for backup before we split up. I think it'll be worth it to keep it out of the wrong hands," she explained, gauging both of their reactions.

With a sigh, Rhodey nodded. "Alright. But don't get killed out there. I'd never forgive myself."

Natasha smiled. "I'll take Moscow. Don't get too comfortable, I'm going to arrange transportation now."

* * *

After a more concerned goodbye than she normally took part in, Natasha headed to the airport, boarding on the next flight to Moscow. She had no doubt that this was the best idea – it was late and unlikely that her target would leave his hotel again before morning. And she intended to get there before then. It was somewhat worrisome to have Sam and Rhodey taking their own approaches, but she reminded herself that they had plenty of experience.

When she'd called, Steve had not been happy about the plan. He had not offered any better suggestions, however, and promised that the rest of the Avengers would head their way as soon as possible. Natasha didn't try to convince him that such a course of action wasn't necessary, and frankly felt a little relieved to know there was going to be a safety net.

Moscow was well known to her, probably more so than anywhere else. She had been born there (she was pretty sure), and spent many missions in or around it over the years. The hotel where her target was staying was one in which she herself had stayed more than once, and she returned the concierge's smile of familiarity.

"Hi, I have a friend staying here, and was hoping I could go surprise him," she said, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but that would be most irregular," he told her, genuinely apologetic.

Pouting, she leaned back and looked around. "I won't tell anyone if you won't, Ivan," she tried again, grinning sweetly, getting his name from the tag on the counter.

The poor man was wavering. "Who is your friend?"

"Leo Kovalensky," she replied, a convincing look of relief washing over her face.

Consulting his computer, the concierge nodded. "He's here. Why don't I give him a ring for you?"

Disappointed but unwilling to change her tactics now, she nodded. "That would be great."

"Your name, Miss?"

A moment of panic hit her as she tried to remember what her name might have been on her previous visit. "Kira Taganova," she replied.

This didn't strike him as strange, apparently, so she began to relax. The man picked up the phone and called room 322, the number of which she pretended not to notice. They waited in silence while it rang. "I'm afraid he doesn't seem to be in," he apologized.

"That's alright. Do you have any other rooms I can stay in while I wait?"

Key in hand, she ascended the stairs and turned off on the second floor, where her room was. A quick circle around the building brought her to another staircase, which she used to get up to 322 unseen by the lobby below. There was no response when she knocked as a precaution and she set about picking the lock.

It didn't take long before she had gained access, and she slipped inside before any other patrons could notice her odd behavior. The room was neat and looked unused, which set off some alarm bells. There was a safe in the corner hanging open, and she approached it cautiously. Inside, there was a note. 'TRAITOR' was printed in large letters over a very recent picture of herself. Without pausing to consider the implications, she pulled out her phone and dialed Steve.

"Rogers," he said.

She opened her mouth to speak when the door to the adjoining room was broken down and people started shooting at her. Having the presence of mind to tuck her phone into her boot, she launched herself at her attackers. Three of them went down, but more seemed to come out of nowhere, and she suddenly found that she was thoroughly restrained.

A man in a suit stepped up to her around the bodies of the soldiers. He bent down and smiled at her. "I knew you'd be back here eventually, but I hardly expected to see you so soon. Imagine my surprise when Ivan gave me a call."

"Who are you?" she asked, her tone calm and polite, as though she weren't being held captive.

As she'd hoped, he seemed quite disappointed by her lack of recognition. "My name is Andrei Turgenov. My brother and I used to train you girls. Can't believe we let you get away," he added, shaking his head in mock-sadness. "Could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we'd taken you before. Or gotten you a little closer to the explosion," he added with a cold grin.

"I would have preferred the latter," she told him affably.

His eyes narrowed. "Take her down a notch," he told one of his men, who hit her with the butt of his rifle.

Stars shone before her eyes, but she recovered. "Where's Kovalensky? I'm working here," she admonished.

Viciously, he reached out and twisted her hair, the action compounding the injury she'd just sustained and making her head swim. "Drop the façade, Romanova. I know you're on your own out here. I was just hoping to get one of your people here so you'd have to swoop in to rescue, but I am glad not to have to go through a middleman. It's much easier to take you myself."

"Take me where?"

He stepped back from her and picked up a leather bag from the ground. From it, he produced a syringe and she tried, mentally, to figure out if her phone was still sending a signal or not. "Time to go home, Natalia Romanova," he told her before inserting the needle into her arm.

"I'd rather finish my mission," she answered, aware of her reaction time slowing dramatically as everything started to float away.

His expression as he looked down at her was pitying. "I'm afraid that's no longer an option."

She blinked slowly in attempt to clear her vision, but it had no effect. "I'm a professional. It's always an option." Her words were slurring and she looked for a way to escape.

"Oh, Romanova. We are going to have so much fun, you and I, while you make up for what you did to my brother." He patted her cheek, then turned to his men and gave some orders onto which she couldn't seem to focus. Then Andrei said something else before everything went dark.

* * *

She was jostled back and forth – enough to wake her – in the trunk of a car.

The sound under her could only be the engine of an airplane – she was strapped into a seat, but her legs and arms were bound.

A car again – in a seat this time.

Rough handling as she was dragged into a chair – strapped down.

Something lowered around her ears – some machinery.

Andrei laughing, telling her how fun this was going to be. And she couldn't move even after the pain started.


	19. Didn't Know When We'd Be Back

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Sorry for the late update - I was traveling.**

 **Didn't know when we'd be back**

"Again," the sharp-faced instructor said, and she obediently moved through the steps of the dance even though her joints were on fire. One of the other girls dropped like a stone, and they moved carefully around her. Madame stood in the corner, looking approvingly at those still dancing.

"Enough," she said, and the girls stopped immediately.

The walls of the studio faded and were replaced by mats, but the rest remained the same. Except now the girls were paired off and sparring instead of dancing. She was facing off against Renata, and it was not going well. A gasp escaped her when the other girl kicked the side of her knee and she went down. Forcing herself through the pain, she got back to her feet and attacked viciously.

"She'll be perfect," a voice said somewhere above her, and she was in an office, standing demurely in the corner. Two brothers were talking to Madame, who was the one who had spoken.

The men turned to look at her appraisingly – Boris and Andrei.

Then she and Boris were running through an industrial plant, being chased by enemy agents. SHIELD agents, she supposed vaguely. But they were shooting and one of the bullets hit some of the machinery, starting a chain reaction. She managed to jump clear, but watched in horror was Boris disappeared into the flames.

At base, she'd been reprimanded. But was soon sent out again.

There were whispers about Andrei, about him leaving the company, but she hadn't cared. Or blamed him. She'd seen what happened to his brother, and thought for the first time that maybe she didn't want the same thing to happen to her.

Boris' hopeful face floated into her line of sight when he asked her to work with him. When he'd thought she was there as anything other than a loyal SHIELD agent. His expression changed to a snarl as he insulted her, told her what she really was. Told her what he had always seen in her, and why she could never escape what she'd done. What he'd seen her do.

The poisonous way he'd glared at her when he was in his cell, unable to tell her what he thought of her.

Andrei's vicious treatment of her since then, the sound of his voice cursing her even over the sound of the machines they were using. A small part of her was aware that he was doing something with her brain, but all she knew was that she desperately wanted him to stop making her relive these things.

And, suddenly, as if by a miracle, he did. The machine stopped and she came back into herself, aware of tears running down her cheeks and thick leather straps holding her in place. There were sounds, chaotic sounds, around her, but she couldn't catch onto anything well enough to figure out what was happening. Somehow, she knew she should be concerned, but couldn't bring herself to be anything but glad that it had stopped.

The metal contraption around her head was removed carefully, then the straps were unfastened. Her eyes were still focused on the ceiling, unseeing, until a face blocked her view.

"Natalia?"

Reacting, she swung her legs up and around the person's midsection, using her momentum to knock them both to the ground, unsteadily pinning him in place.

"Hey, it's me, Natalia, it's B – James," he said soothingly, apparently not bothered by her attack.

"James?" she questioned, disbelieving as she stared at him. He was looking at her very earnestly, his hands held away from her but in her line of vision so she wouldn't see him as a threat. "James," she murmured again, relief flooding her to the point that, when the inclination took her to rest against his chest, she didn't resist.

"We have to go, Natalia," he told her gently, not touching her. "Can you walk?"

Her body ached with fatigue, but she managed to get to her feet. While he did the same, she took in the room. It was a basement of some sort, bare except for the contraption to which she'd been hooked up, and at least half a dozen men were knocked out. None of them were Andrei, she was pretty sure. Barnes was watching her carefully, and she attempted to start for the door. Unexpectedly, her legs failed her and she would have hit the ground if he hadn't caught her about the waist.

"Here," he offered, leaning down so she could get her arm around his shoulders. With his support, she was able to walk. He handed her a pistol, which she took in her free right hand, while he had another in his left.

Her brain was still fuzzy and she was only aware of a few things as they made their way back to, as it turned out, the Avengers' plane. First, there were a lot of stairs and climbing up them was a terrible challenge for her in her present state. She thought Barnes might carry her, like she was some fainting damsel in distress, and was thankful that he did not try. Second, there were a lot of people around, both enemies and the other Avengers. They were shot at quite a bit toward the beginning, but Barnes blocked with his metal arm and she was pretty sure she managed to hit some of their assailants when she fired. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, that Barnes didn't treat her like her was rescuing her. Sure, he had his arm around her so she could move, but he'd given her a gun and trusted her to deal with some of their attackers. It was… not what she'd come to expect from most men.

Finally, she found herself walking up the ramp to their plane, and she was comforted by its familiarity. Barnes escorted her to one of the cabins where she could lay down, and she climbed gingerly into the bed. He stepped back, looking at her appraisingly.

"Need anything right now?" he asked.

"Probably not," she replied with a shrug, settling back against the pillow and feeling her connection with wakefulness slipping away.

"Alright. I'm going to head back in, then, see what I can do to help." He paused, seeming to want to say more. Her eyelids fluttered tiredly and his expression became more closed-off. He gave her the pistol again and a comm device. "I can – _someone_ can be back soon if anything happens."

She stirred herself enough to grab his hand before he could pull it out of reach. "James… thank you," she told him sincerely.

His jaw clenched slightly, then his features softened as he squeezed her hand. "Just me saving you for once, that's all," he replied.

A smile tugged at her lips and she released him to settle back down. "Be careful out there," she murmured.

As she began to lose consciousness, she thought she could feel him bend down to kiss her forehead before leaving. But that was probably a dream.

* * *

When she awoke again, she was first satisfied that her sleep had been dreamless – the drugs must have worn off. Then the thought took her that she might still be a prisoner and the whole rescuing scenario a hallucination. But opening her eyes with a start showed herself to be safely in a familiar cabin, and her heart stopped pounding. She realized she was not alone.

Rhodey was leaning against the wall, no longer wearing the suit. His eyes had been closed, but he turned his attention to her after she'd jolted awake. "Hey," he said softly.

She tried to smile, but it felt shaky, so she settled for looking pleasant. "Wasn't your fault," she insisted, knowing what he was here to say.

"Natasha…" he replied, wanting to argue.

Her hand went to her forehead and she rubbed her temples as if it would make the throbbing go away. She'd kill for a drink. Not literally, of course. "It was a trap. I should have noticed the signs."

"I shouldn't have taken you on this op right after you got back," he countered.

She opened her eyes to glare at him. "I chose to come."

"Why?" he wanted to know.

His expression was tense, stressed, and she considered how it must have felt for him. He was in charge of the mission, and she'd insisted on splitting up. Of course he was blaming himself. "Rhodey, this is my job. People wanting revenge is an occupational hazard. We had no way of knowing that the earlier op would cause this," she explained patiently.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, glad to see he seemed a little less upset. "If anything, it started in my Red Room days. So, no, it had nothing to do with our hunt for HYDRA tech. Speaking of," she added, looking at him pointedly.

"We found the other Kovalensky brothers. They're in custody and the older one had the device. I don't know what happened to Leo."

"Andrei probably killed him," she said resignedly.

"I'm sorry, Natasha."

Her smile was tired, but she managed to maintain it. "Don't sweat it, Colonel. I'm fine."

A knock interrupted them, and Rhodey turned to answer it, though she could have reached the door from her bed – it was not a large space.

"She's awake?" Sam's voice from the hallway. Rhodey nodded and moved so he could see in. "Hey, Nat, how are you feeling?"

She saw he was not alone, and smiled more genuinely at the little crowd gathered to check on her. "I'm feeling much better, everyone."

Steve and Sam were the closest to the door, and she could see Wanda and Vision behind them. The fact that Barnes did not appear to be present only bothered her because she was concerned about his well-being.

"Good to hear, people were pretty worried," Sam answered her, motioning toward Wanda and shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"I hope no one did anything drastic," she teased, somewhat confused by the way Steve clenched his jaw at the joke.

"We should let you rest," Steve said quietly. Rhodey nodded, patting her shoulder and wished her well. The others voiced their agreement before moving off to other parts of the plane. "We'll get you checked out once we land. But you think you've recovered from what they were doing to you?"

She shrugged, not attempting to reassure him. "I think so. I feel like myself."

Nodding, he started to pull her door shut. "Glad he got there in time, then. Get some rest."

"Steve, wait," she said, surprising herself. He paused, watching her gravely. "Is… everyone okay?"

His expression was closed when he nodded again so she wasn't sure she could believe his response. "A few flesh wounds, nothing serious. Anything else?"

She shook her head silently, and he shut the door. Biting her lip, she settled back down to sleep, wondering what they weren't telling her.


	20. And I Didn't Think We'd End Up Like This

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! to both my anonymous guest reviewer (sorry I didn't get your email before I posted the last chapter - hope you liked the resolution!), and Bigfan25! There will be two more chapters, and we all need something to sustain us until CACW!**

 **And I don't, didn't think we'd end up like this**

Some part of her was aware of being taken from the plane through the facility to the medical wing. The room they put her in was private, and she was soon asleep again. Her dreams were scattered and hard to follow, but she awoke with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Though the lights were out, she was aware of a shape in the chair by her bed.

"Steve?" she guessed, given its size.

"Didn't mean to wake you," he replied, reaching over to flick the lights on.

She blinked against the sudden brightness, taking a few moments to focus on him. He hadn't slept, looking haggard, but had at least changed out of his uniform. "What's up?" she asked, and the corners of his mouth twisted slightly toward a smile.

"Thought I'd keep an eye on you, make sure you woke up to be the same old Nat."

"And?"

This time he did smile. "Looks like it so far."

Pulling her pillows up so she could lean against them more comfortably, she cleared her throat. "So, what happened?" she asked when he didn't say anything.

"I got your call. Heard you… heard them take you. We were just about to pick up Sam, who had his prisoner, and we had to decide what to do." He paused, staring intently in the middle distance.

"To pick him up or hurry to me?" she pressed gently.

His eyes focused on hers again and he nodded. "Yeah, we didn't know who took you, but Bucky thought they wouldn't keep you in Moscow. We picked up Sam and Rhodey, who told us what you'd been doing. The Kovalenskys couldn't tell us what happened to their brother."

"Couldn't? Not wouldn't?" she interrupted.

"We asked very … persuasively," he replied grimly.

"Then how did you find me?"

Steve licked his lips, considering what to tell her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Your phone gave a signal for a while, which gave us a lead, but they must have found it and turned it off before you landed. Bucky knew of an old Department X base in the vicinity, so we looked there first."

Thinking back, she couldn't imagine she'd been there for very long – probably less than half a day. "He was right?"

"Yeah. He snuck in to check it out, and radioed back to tell us when he found you."

"He went in by himself?"

Steve gave her an odd look. "Yeah. He's always been like that, going the extra mile to protect people he l – cares about."

"I appreciate it. Then you went all heroic and busted me out of there," she prompted with a smile, trying to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders.

He smiled faintly. "Yeah, we went all heroic. Didn't capture as many as I would have liked. The guy who took you got away, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, he wasn't among those captured, but we didn't search the casualties too closely. We were in a hurry."

That was unusual, especially if she'd already been extracted. Thoroughly taking down the place would be more important than leaving. Unless… "J – Barnes was injured and you wanted to get him medical attention sooner rather than later," she stated.

Expression self-deprecating, Steve nodded his head to the right. "Yeah, he's next door. Should be fine, but we weren't sure then. And we didn't know what they did to you."

"What did they do to me?"

"Someone else will be able to explain it better, I'm sure, but they drugged you with something that would make that machine able to get at your memories. I don't know what they were planning, but the scans don't show anything out of the ordinary. So, hopefully, we got there in time."

Natasha thought of how he'd looked on the plane when expressing the same sentiment. "But Barnes is going to be okay?"

"Yeah, just a flesh wound. We've all had worse. Made him stay here overnight in case he pulls his stitches, though. He wasn't happy," Steve added with a conspiratorial grin.

The comment about the stitches was a bit strange, but she was happy to see his mood had improved, so she smiled back. "Well, no one likes staying in these places. I might make a break for it after you leave," she told him with a straight face.

He snorted. "You're almost more trouble than you're worth, Romanoff."

A laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. "Well, I'll have to stay on my toes to keep that 'almost' in the picture."

"You certainly will," he told her in mock-seriousness as he got to his feet.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked innocently.

He moved closer to brush her hair off her forehead affectionately. She thought he might kiss it, but he didn't. "Gonna check on Bucky before I turn in. If you could avoid getting into trouble until I get up in, oh, seven hours or so, I'd appreciate it."

"I'll do my best, Captain," she replied, saluting him.

"Thanks, Nat," he answered, rolling his eyes before heading out of the room. "Get some sleep."

Obedient to her commanding officer, as well as her own exhaustion, she settled back and closed her eyes.

* * *

She hadn't slept very long when she was awakened by something upsetting. It took her a moment to register that she was hearing screaming, and another moment to realize it sounded like Barnes. Before she was really aware of what she was doing, she'd climbed out of bed and was in the hallway. A nurse was approaching the room beside hers warily.

"I've got this, Neftali," she told him, and he looked relieved, if a little skeptical, as she moved toward the other door. Carefully, but not silently, she pulled it open and slipped inside. Barnes was thrashing about, clearly having the nightmare, the screams sounding as if they were dragged out by a hook.

Cautiously approaching his bed, she began to call his name softly. "James… Bucky. Wake up, James." At the third one, he sat up abruptly and stared at her with wild eyes, watching intensely as she continued to approach and stopped just out of arms-reach. "It was just a dream. You're safe now."

"Natalia," he whispered, still staring. "I thought they… I thought you were," he murmured haltingly, finally dragging his eyes away.

"I'm fine, too. We're both fine. We're at home, just in the medical center. Steve insisted, apparently," she told him gently, suddenly aware of why Steve had thought Barnes might rip his stitches. Was it like this every night he wasn't in the field?

"Sounds like him," he muttered, still looking anywhere but at her.

Slowly, she moved closer to lean on the foot of his bed, wondering why there wasn't a chair in his room. "Sorry, a little tired," she explained when he looked at her sharply. A guilty look crossed his face as he pulled his legs up and out of her way.

"Sorry," he whispered, wrapping his arms around his knees. The movement made the left one catch the moonlight coming in through the window, and she couldn't help but study it. She didn't think she'd seen before where it attached to his body – a ridge of scars extended several centimeters from where the metal was grafted in, and some of it looked inflamed. Of course she'd known he had a prosthetic, but she hadn't realized, hadn't thought about, the reality of supporting such a heavy appendage. It explained his gait when he walked, and she wondered if his flesh was torn every time he used it.

He shifted uncomfortably, and she belatedly became aware that she'd been staring for a noticeable amount of time. There was a bandage on his side as well, which she saw when he moved, and she was relieved to see it was still mostly white. His stitches must have been holding, despite the stress no doubt put on them during his nightmare.

"It's alright," she told him soothingly, and he nodded, but didn't look at her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

That was understandable – she didn't like to talk about the things that kept her up at night, either. "Do you want me to go?"

"No."

This one was quieter, less firm. Perhaps just to give her the option, though. "I wanted to thank you for rescuing me. Thought I'd wait until morning, of course, but this is fine, too," she added, teasing.

He gave the barest of smiles to acknowledge her tone. "No problem."

Thinking back over what Steve said, she bit her lip to stop the question she wanted to put to him. He wasn't opening up to her right now, and she didn't want to force him. Still, it was late at night, and dark, and people tended to be more honest when they felt they couldn't be seen. Worth a try – she might not get the chance again. "James, can I ask you something?"

His gaze lifted back to hers, and she was surprised to see that it was as intense as it had been when she'd woken him. "Yes."

"It sounds like… like you took some pretty big risks coming to get me. You know it wasn't your fault that our mission left some loose ends, right?"

"Yeah," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Then why?"

He pressed his lips together briefly, as though considering whether or not to answer. "Because I love you."


	21. Like a Good Book, I Can't Put This Day

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! One chapter left :)**

 **Like a good book I can't put this day back**

Natasha Romanoff had killed a lot of people in her life. Some of them were friends, some were enemies, and many had no personal connection either way. She had also saved a number of people more recently, and hoped to someday balance out the two sides. Her friendships were few, but deep. She'd had a few dalliances over the years, but never with anyone with whom she'd felt a strong connection. It was a way to protect herself, keeping everyone at some distance.

So, in any case, no one had ever said, and meant, what James had just said to her, and certainly not in the calmly matter-of-fact tone he had used. As though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Her experience was admittedly limited outside of movies and television, but she couldn't help but think that real people probably said it with a little more passion.

Aware that she'd been silent for longer than was appropriate, she cleared her throat, mind racing to think of a response. "James, I…"

"It's okay. I don't expect you to feel the same way," he reassured her, and she could see that she'd hurt him, despite his attempt to hide it. "I just thought you knew. Everyone else seems to," he explained, a self-effacing smile twisting his features.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and she wished she'd gotten more sleep before having to come to terms with something like this. Or that she had more time, without him sitting there, watching her. Speechlessness was an unfamiliar state for her, and she struggled to find something, anything, with which to respond to him.

"They do?" she finally asked.

He nodded seriously. "It's why Steve was so worried about us going on a mission together."

Frowning at how little sense that made to her, she cleared her throat again. "Why was he worried?"

"He thought I might do something stupid."

"Oh. Of course," she answered distantly, knowing that she was staring at him and unable to stop herself. Grasping once more for something to say, she tried to clarify his statement. Maybe it would make sense this time. "Everyone?"

He considered. "Maybe not until a couple days ago, when we sparred after our mission. Sam's been teasing me ever since and Wanda keeps grinning at me," he admitted, looking embarrassed.

"I just… I'm usually better at picking up on these things," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Nodding slowly, he looked away from her at last. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said softly.

Having his eyes no longer focused on her was a relief. Which gave her a little more room to sort through her thoughts. "If it's not too much to ask… why?"

"Why what part?" he asked, turning back and searching her face.

"Why do you… feel that way?" she finished lamely, feeling an unfamiliar heat in her cheeks. To her horror, she thought that she might be blushing, and she hoped it was too dark for him to tell.

"Oh." He looked down at his knees for a long moment and she was beginning to think he might not answer. It wasn't her place to ask, really. She shouldn't have pressed him, she berated herself. "Remember when we met outside Odessa?" he said at last.

"Yes."

"I'd been following you for three days. You'd managed to evade every trap I'd set for you and my target. No one had ever done that before, and certainly not for so long. When you pulled him out after going over that cliff… Well, I was pretty impressed. I didn't want to kill you, and was relieved you had survived that. I had to finish my mission, but you weren't part of the orders, so I… aimed to miss anything important."

He glanced up at her to see how she was taking this. She didn't know what expression was on her face, but he looked back down before he continued.

"When I saw you again, in D.C., I didn't remember you, of course. But you kept me on my toes, outwitting me at every turn. It was really frustrating. If you hadn't been protecting civilians, I would never have gotten close. And I was… willing to be distracted when Steve showed up."

She'd been terrified in D.C., less so outside Odessa. The shot had been a long one and she hadn't expected him to make it the first time. After seeing what he could do, so efficiently and without hesitation, hearing that he'd shown up again had scared her more than she had ever been before, barring her first experience with the Hulk. She'd kept her arsenal on her at all times after that, knowing he'd be sent after Steve if anyone would, knowing it would take everything she had to get them away from him again.

"And since then?" she asked quietly, attention focused on the tile floor.

"I read your file. The one you leaked when SHIELD fell. I wanted to see… to know more about you. I've watched you work with civilians, saving anyone that you can, regardless of what they say about you on the news. I've seen how loyal you are to your friends, and how much it means to you when they treat you the same way. You're extremely skilled and efficient in the field, but you are … so different when you're off-duty."

"Different," she echoed numbly.

She was aware that, at some point, he'd stood up and was pacing the room as he talked, not looking at her. Now, he came to a stop beside her and gently cupped her chin, leaning down to meet her gaze while she felt frozen in place.

"You make jokes, bad ones, and tease everyone you like about all of their personal qualities. It's … endearing," he informed her, moving quickly passed the way his tone wavered when he clarified whom it was she teased – she hadn't teased him.

"You know… Most men expect me to kill them if they get too close," she told him slowly, holding still to keep from dislodging his hand.

He smiled slightly. "I don't."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, Steve would be so ticked if, after everything that's happened, I ended up dead. And you like Steve."

A smile tugged at her lips, but she kept her expression neutral. "And for another thing?"

His thumb slowly moved along her jawline and she felt her heart began to pound in anticipation of something she wouldn't name, suddenly aware, as she was, of their proximity and location. "You're a good person, Natalia," he said quietly. "You don't hurt people if you can help it."

The way he said it… "You aren't a good person?" she asked.

"I hurt a lot of people today. I didn't have to."

"To get to me?"

"Yes."

She swallowed, transfixed by his bright blue eyes. They looked cold, but she could see emotion roiling underneath the surface. "Did you kill Andrei Turgenov?"

The question seemed to amuse him, if a little grimly so. "No, Natalia. But I would have if he hadn't gotten away. If I hadn't freed you instead."

"Seems like you chose to help someone rather than hurt," she offered. He didn't answer, just watched her. "Steve said that you were always very protective of people you love," Natasha said softly, aware now of how her friend had caught himself earlier to keep from revealing anything he shouldn't. "That's not a bad thing."

"It can be," he replied, lifting his head to kiss her forehead before moving away from her.

Slowly, she got to her feet, feeling that the conversation might be over and wondering why it didn't feel like a relief. He stood a few feet away, watching her, his posture lopsided with exhaustion and maybe melancholy. She thought of their mission together, how in sync they were. How it felt when he'd put his arm around her for support, then touched her skin to stitch up her wound. The way he'd looked at her when he thought she was distracted by something. Yes, she had been blind not to see how he felt about her.

But how did she feel about him? The excitement currently running through her veins couldn't be trusted – likely just a result of the hour and the stress she'd been under. Everyone knew how he felt, but no one, not even her, was sure how she did. It would be terrifying to be closer to him, to let him in the way he wanted her to. But maybe… Bruce had left because of his own reasons, Clint had said. But it was also because of her. Because she was falling for him and he didn't share her priorities. She'd been willing to make an attempt at something new then. But he hadn't been, and now she was unsure of herself.

"I'm not like the others, James. Turgenov wasn't wrong – it was easy for them to mold me into what they wanted. Into a monster."

"You didn't choose that, Natalia," he said sharply, looking like he wanted to move closer to her but resisting. "They took you and made you into a weapon to be used however they saw fit. You aren't… you can't blame yourself for being good at what they asked of you. You've managed to reclaim yourself since then."

"James…" she trailed off, tongue-tied by his sentiment and the way he was looking at her. Shifting her weight, she broke eye contact and looked intently at the floor while she considered the fact that no one else had gone through what they had. No one else had entered this kind of life against their will, after being taken and trained by the enemy. The others had red in their ledgers, were making up for things, but they'd all had more autonomy than she or Barnes – James – had been given. Bruce had chosen to test the formula on himself, Steve and Wanda had volunteered… Rhodey and Sam had come in willingly. Vision, well, who knew about him… Tony had been captured and forced to work, and Clint had been taken over by Loki. Which was about as close as anyone else got to what had happened to she and James.

He was a good man, despite what he'd said earlier. When he'd done Captain America's dirty work during the war, he'd only done what he had to do to finish the job. Even as the Winter Soldier, he'd never been cruel. He'd been a story to scare the enemy because of his efficiency – if he was after you, he would find you. No matter what you might do, he would find you and kill you. But not make you suffer. And since then, well, he'd been a good teammate and a good partner to Steve, and Sam, and, most recently, to her.

But what he was asking of her… She had been alone a long time. She didn't like to let people get too close. Her professional reputation kept most people away, and the rest were held at a distance by her casual attitude. People couldn't read her the way she could read them, and she liked it that way. James already had a better read on her than she was comfortable with. It would be impossible to keep him at a distance if she let this progress further.

"I'll… I'll let you get some sleep," she told him, trying not to see the way his expression fell as she turned away. He didn't answer, didn't move, and she was shocked by how disappointed that made her feel as she slipped through the door. Maybe… Maybe she'd have to think about this a bit more.


	22. A Sorta Fairytale With You

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, or followed! I really appreciate the support, and I hope you all enjoy this last chapter. Merry Christmas!**

 **A sorta fairytale with you**

For three days, she didn't see anyone. She ate little, didn't answer her phone, and did her best not to leave her room. The others were worried, understandably, but she'd submitted to the brain scans and gotten a clean bill of health before running away. Because that was definitely what she was doing. It wasn't like her. But she couldn't face the others, not if they _knew_. Not until she'd decided what to do.

Midafternoon on the third day, her phone wouldn't stop ringing and she finally picked it up to see if there was some kind of crisis. Unlikely – it was Clint. It had occurred to her to call him, to get his, and Laura's, opinion of the situation. But, for some reason, she'd resisted that idea.

"Hey, Nat," he said in a gentle way that made her suspect someone had brought him in to deal with her.

"What's up?" she replied casually.

He paused, and she could hear a fond sort of annoyance directed at her when he spoke again. "How long are you going to do this?"

"This?" she echoed innocently.

It was as if she could hear his eyes rolling. "Hiding."

"It's a delicate situation."

"That's your specialty, Nat. You handle all kinds of sensitive missions without causing any international incidents. This hardly seems to be above your skill level."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "It's just… uncharted waters."

There was another pause, after which he sounded surprisingly amused. "Well, 'Tasha, you seem like you need a push. So here it is. Your team is going to need you soon, both of you, and you need to clear the air before then. Go talk to him today."

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but the fact that he knew why she was hiding didn't immediately strike her as strange. Still, he was right, however he got his information – they couldn't afford distractions like this. "Alright."

"Good. You'll be fine."

"Thanks." She hung up and frowned at her phone. Then, with a sigh, she dragged herself toward the bathroom to get ready. Dressing for the occasion always made her feel more confident, even if that didn't mean bringing an arsenal. She found herself standing outside Steve's door much sooner than she would have preferred and knocked with a traitorously shaking hand. Listening for movement inside, she prayed that she wouldn't have to come back later.

"Natalia," Barnes said when he opened the door, a flurry of emotions crossing his face before becoming guarded.

"James," she replied. "How's your side?"

"Fine." An awkward silence settled over them and he shifted his weight. "Steve's not here," he stated quietly. His expression might be giving her nothing, but she had seen the way his eyes widened and suspected his pulse was racing at the sight of her.

"Good, because I didn't want to talk to him," she forced out, surging forward. He obligingly moved out of the way and she walked passed him into the living room. One of the bedroom doors, the one she thought was Steve's, was closed, while the other was open and she could see how sparsely furnished Barnes' was. Much like her own, she thought irrelevantly. Turning her attention to the man in question, she noticed that his hair was damp and supposed he had showered recently. It smelled clean in here.

He was watching her, waiting, and she paused uncertainly. "I had to clear my head," she told him without preamble.

Nodding, he looked away from her. "I understand," he murmured after a long moment in which neither spoke, eyes still averted.

She licked her lips. "I don't, uh, I don't know what you were offering the other day, but I…" Trailing off, she gauged his reaction before taking a tentative step toward him. "But I'm open to it."

His expression cleared and she thought he might smile as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

The question threw her momentarily. But it was a reasonable one. Just not one she was really ready to answer. Another step brought her close enough to touch his face, and she ran her fingers along his jaw thoughtfully for a moment while he held very still, regarding her. "I think… I think I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," she whispered.

She was aware of his smile before his lips were on hers. Then her arms wrapped around him automatically and she felt lightheaded when his did the same. He broke their kiss to pull her against him. "I love you, Natalia," he said, sounding relieved.

She closed her eyes and was content for a few moments. Then she smiled against his neck. "Is Steve coming back any time soon?"

Loosening his embrace to look at her, he raised an eyebrow again at her expression. "Not until tomorrow morning. Why?"

"I'd rather not be disturbed," she said innocently, then pulled him back down for a more insistent kiss, fingers pressed against the back of his neck. He made a surprised noise before pulling her closer. When he moved to run a trail of kisses down her throat, she gasped, digging her fingernails into him. His hands slid down her back and he picked her up, carrying her to his room. After setting her down gently, he drew back enough to look her in the eye.

"What do you want, Natalia?"

The way he was looking at her made her feel more vulnerable than she ever had, and she was momentarily tongue-tied. "This. You," she replied softly but not hesitantly.

He was more than willing to oblige, clearly, and the next several hours were filled with an exploration of what their carefully honed skills could accomplish besides ending lives.

* * *

It was morning when Natasha stirred herself to move from the spot where she'd ended up after the last event. She was lying half on James' chest, his arm around her waist, her legs stretched out off of the bed. Shifting her weight, she slid herself back onto the bed, and James pulled her waist over until she was flush against him.

"Good morning," he murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair.

"Is it?" she responded playfully, looking over at him with a grin.

He had been sleepy, but opened his eyes more to consider her reaction. "Very. But I'm tired," he told her firmly.

Laughing, she repositioned herself to give him a quick kiss. "I'm hungry," she informed him in the same tone.

"Can't imagine why," he said drily as he moved to the side of the bed and sat up.

Resenting the lack of contact, she followed him. "What's for breakfast?"

He rubbed his face with his real hand, tentatively placing the other one on her waist before turning to look at her. "What would you like?"

A shiver ran through her at his touch, but she pushed that away. For now. "Whatever doesn't require us to go anywhere."

With a nod, he stood up and began getting dressed. She did the same after a beat. "So the dining hall is out of the question," he stated, watching her finish dressing.

"If possible." She didn't say that she didn't want to see any of their colleagues yet, didn't want to have to explain themselves to anyone. But he seemed to understand anyway.

He lifted her chin to kiss her. "We can eat here," he told her gently when he broke away.

"Thank you."

As they left his room to go to the kitchenette just outside, she considered how different she felt as a result of opening up to James. It made her feel like anyone might be able to read what she was thinking, see who she was and how she felt all the time, and she didn't like that idea at all. It was fine – nice, even – when James did it. But she was afraid of how their friends might respond. Besides, she didn't want to look like a lovesick fool in front of them, and not being with James in public seemed the best option at this point.

She leaned against the counter and watched James make them bacon and eggs. It was enjoyable, watching him. He was good with his hands, she supposed, and felt her cheeks grow warm at the thought. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

There wasn't a table, and she didn't really want to eat at the counter, so she led the way over to the couch when breakfast was ready. As soon as she picked up her fork, she was struck by how hungry she really was – she'd been too nervous to eat the day before. And had burned quite a few calories since then. James appeared to be just as hungry, so they ate in silence.

When they were finished, he put his arm around her and she leaned against his chest, releasing a satisfied sigh. "Breakfast was good?" he asked, sounding amused.

"Mmhmm," she responded, closing her eyes.

"Now what?"

Forcing herself to wake up a little, she shrugged. "We could watch TV."

"Sure."

They watched the news for a while – it was depressing for the most part, but had a bit about what Steve had been doing the day before. And that was mostly positive. James stiffened and looked angry whenever it wasn't, but she nestled against his chest and wrapped her arms tighter around him – that seemed to calm him down enough to kiss her.

Which is what they were doing when she heard the distinct sound of the door being unlocked. An irrational panic took her and she started to pull away from James. He didn't stop her, but looked a little crestfallen, so she settled against his chest again before the door finished opening and Steve walked in.

His posture was bent from exhaustion, and he didn't glance in their direction as he headed for his room. "Hey, Buck," he said by way of greeting.

"Steve," James replied levelly.

"Steve," Natasha mimicked James' tone.

That stopped him in his tracks, and he turned around to look at them. The shock on his face made her giggle, and she could feel James laughing a little. "Well, that's… that," Steve managed to get out at last.

Smiling demurely, she nestled against James again. "It went well, they were saying," she said conversationally, motioning toward the news still playing.

"Yeah. How long was I gone?" he asked, ignoring the television behind him and still staring at the two of them.

"Couple days," James supplied, since Natasha didn't know.

"Uh huh." Steve finally blinked and shook his head. "Well, I'm sure someone can explain this later. I'm going to bed."

"Sleep well," Natasha called lightly, earning a frown from Steve.

At his door, he suddenly stopped and ran a hand through his hair before turning back to look at them. "If this isn't a dream, I'm going to owe Sam a lot of money."

"Why?" James asked levelly.

"We had a bet going… Looks like I lost," Steve explained, sounding pleased despite himself.

James and Natasha exchanged a look and smiled at each other. "It's not nice to bet on your friends," Natasha said at the same time that James said "Looks like you did."

Steve shook his head at their laughter before he went in his room. Natasha settled against James again and made a contented noise – for possibly the first time, she felt at home.


End file.
